Just Sad
by Perseus Potter-Black
Summary: Alone. That's all he's ever been. Whether he was at the Dursleys or Azkaban. Flung straight from the frying pan of hell, into the fires of war, Harry must learn to adapt quickly. On top of this, new secrets come to light, forcing Harry to ask, "Does family make the man?" HeavilyLight-sided Harry! Manipulative!Dumbledore, eventually evil! Warfic!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N- If you were expecting an Azkaban story where Harry gets extremely mad at his friends and basically tells them to screw off or if you thought this was going to be a Dark! Harry story, you might want to turn back now. That being said, Ron and Hermione are not the greatest blokes in the world right now and they will not help him towards his destiny.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own any of the following.**

* * *

 **Chapter 1- False Accusations**

 _August 1_ _st_ _, 1995_

 _Harry Potter Convicted to Life in Azkaban!_

 _Harry James Potter was found guilty by the Wizengamot for the murder of Cedric Diggory. Having committed an atrocity against the Ancient House of Diggory, the boy-who-killed is condemned to life in prison._

Harry looked up from the newspaper, into the eyes of the smirking minister. The one, who had been so nice and friendly just last year, the one who had taken the liberty of getting his school supplies for him, the one who had just thrown him into Azkaban with a very _fair_ trial.

"Didn't your parents ever teach you manners, boy?" he asked cruelly.

Harry winced and tears started to gather in his eyes. Fudge had been so nice to him. Then again, they'd all been nice to him. Hermione. Ron. The Weasleys. Remus. Dumbledore. Sirius. And they'd locked him away without a second glance.

He could, to a point, understand the minister's reasons. With his boy-who-lived status, he was a powerful political enemy who was threatening Fudge's continued power.

But his friends? Who he'd selflessly sacrificed his life for over and over again? He had known Ron was incredibly selfish—he had more than proven that not only during the Goblet of Fire incident, but the trial as well—however, Hermione hadn't a reason. Had she?

The rest of the Weasley clan had been just as atrocious in condemning him. He had thought that maybe Fred and George would come to his aid; he had come to theirs after all—giving them money for their shop, but they hadn't. Mr. Weasley had stood back, watching silently, neither giving condemning words nor up lifting.

Ginny's betrayal had hurt worst of all. She had claimed that it had been he, who had given her the diary and was responsible for the entirety of the 'Chamber of Secrets' debacle.

Dumbledore sat there, with the abilities and memories to counter such falsities, but he didn't. His grandfather figure did nothing to help Harry. In fact, he attacked him outright, calling out supporting evidence against him at his trial.

Harry suspected that Remus wasn't entirely sure of his guiltiness, but he threw him into the gutter—so to say—either way.

It was when Sirius believed he was guilty, that even he—who was certain that he had not done the crime—was forced to rethink his innocence. His godfather—who was himself a wrongly convicted criminal—thought he was guilty.

All-in-all, Harry had been betrayed horribly. His trial, if it can even be called one, had been a farce, which was to be expected—considering that those who had committed the crime were influencing the outcome.

Malfoy, Nott, Avery and the lot of them had been sure to make themselves heard, and had led the charge against using Veritaserum for his trial. It didn't matter that they were former _innocent_ death eaters, the rest of the wizarding aristocracy had eaten it up.

Of course, he was innocent. Cedric was fast becoming one of his best friends, and he could never hurt a friend. Nevermind a friend, it was horrid for him to kill an enemy as well. Quirrell's death had haunted his dreams every year since the occurrence. Yes, it would've been him or Quirrell, but he had grown up in a household where he was hurt daily.

It had been bad enough dealing with Dudley, but when he had turned six, his uncle had started to jump in. While Dudley's strength and power were appalling for his age, his father was easily ten times as powerful.

Thus, he knew how painful it was to be…well in pain. He didn't want anyone else to suffer the same as he, and he especially didn't want for him to be the cause of it. Physical or mental.

Of course, he was being condemned to a place where both would happen—probably regularly. The prison guards had already let Amos Diggory—who wasn't allowed to be in the prison in the first place—pound him into the floor quite painfully.

But he would survive; he always did in the long run. That's all he was, a survivor. He'd survived Voldemort, he'd survived 10 years at the Dursleys, and he'd survive a lifetime in Azkaban. Maybe. Either way, it didn't really matter. His friends didn't believe him anyways, so what reason was there to live?

Harry was brought back to the present by Fudge's chuckling. "Mind the walls, Potter," he said mockingly whilst looking at the bruises left by Mr. Diggory.

Harry's only reply was silence. It was his best friend after all.

Fudge trudged off with a disappointed look at Harry's unwillingness to fight back—probably to taunt some more prisoners—and leaving Harry by his lonesome.

* * *

" _Kill the spare."_

 _A swishing noise and a second voice, which screeched the words to the night: "Avada Kedavra!"_

 _A blast of green light blazed through Harry's eyelids, and he heard something heavy fall to the ground beside him; the pain in his scar reached such a peak that he retched, and then it diminished; terrified of what he was about to see, he opened his stinging eyes._

 _Cedric was lying spread-eagled on the ground beside him. He was dead._

– _ **Excerpt from the Goblet of Fire**_

Harry woke in a cold sweat, gasping for breath. The dementor had moved on, to torment another. Harry always passed out when one was in the vicinity and he was forced to dream of his worst memories. This time, he dreamt of that night again, the night that had led to his incarceration.

It had been three months since he had been placed in his cell. Ninety-two days, four hours, nine minutes, and thirty-two seconds to be exact. Or had it been nine hours, forty-two minutes and thirty seconds? He was quite bored.

He would admit that Azkaban was worse than he thought. His fare at the Dursleys had not been a five-class meal by any means—in fact, it was a piece of moldy bread and a glass of water—but that was ambrosia considering the slop they gave here. And that was before mentioning the whole 'relive your worst memories' part.

Hogwarts had started back only a month ago; were his friends alright? Then he remembered that he no longer had any friends to speak of. But still, hopefully they were all alright. It wouldn't do if Voldemort caught them.

* * *

'I wonder if this was Sirius' cell.' Harry pondered idly. Probably not. As far as he could tell, there were at least forty cells on this level alone. With all of its occupants insane.

Speaking of which, why hadn't he succumbed to insanity yet? Merlin knows he'd suffered like the rest of them, and he was already above average on the sane expectancy.

"Potter!" a voice growled from the other side of the cell bars.

Turning around, Harry saw that his weekly visitor was here. Fantastic. Last week, he'd had to spend two days in the hospital.

The guards unlocked the bar gate, allowing Diggory to stomp in menacingly with the glare in his eyes already settled on the room's only occupant.

Harry wouldn't fight back; he never did. If this is what it took to take the anger away from the man, then he'd be the punching bag. He prided himself with being rather good at it after years of practice with Dudley.

Harry struggled to stand up, weak from hunger, and awaited the punishment. He was immediately swept of his feet by a sharp kick to the shin.

Diggory picked Harry up by the collar of his decimated, foul robes. "You deserve this boy, and you know it," he spat sounding very much like Vernon Dursley. He kneed Harry in the stomach to prove his point.

Harry felt all the air shoot from his lungs, but he didn't make a sound. As was usual. He didn't deserve to make a sound; he didn't even deserve to breathe, though not for the same reason that Diggory thought.

His parents were gone; because of him. Voldemort had come after him for a reason—even if he didn't know why yet—for one does not attack a family without his loyal followers, especially, when said person is notorious for using his followers as cannon fodder. No, there was a reason. And a big one at that.

By extension, Sirius had gone to Azkaban because of him. If he hadn't endangered his parents to the point of them being forced into hiding, they wouldn't have needed a secret keeper. And Sirius would not have been suspected of being said secret keeper.

So Harry stood and took the pain with open arms—proverbially at least. Diggory was always quick to attack the arms, just in case Harry decided to fight back. He needn't have worried about that.

The only reason Harry would begrudgingly attack someone, is if a friend's life was in danger. And thus, when angry, he responded with violence. But he wasn't mad. He was…just sad.

* * *

Sirius Black sat at the table in the kitchen of his late mother's house. The fireplace set its warm blaze open him—giving him warmth—even as his thoughts turned colder.

Sirius was terribly confused. And that was putting it lightly.

Harry had declared his innocence at the trial—just like he would've done if he had been given a trial. Harry had been dragged off to prison basically begging—like he would've done if he hadn't been unconscious. Harry had watched as his two best friends tore him apart in court—which was something that he was glad that he hadn't had to go through.

The evidence against himself had actually been feasible. He had sent a blasting hex at Pettigrew, right before the rat blew up the street. Dumbledore had thought him the Potter's keeper, and they hadn't informed him of the change.

All the evidence had been against him, whereas, the evidence against Harry was rather sad—going off the words of 'imperiused' death eaters. How could Dumbledore have possibly believed that?

Of course, he couldn't say much for himself as he had believed it at first as well. He had heard Malfoy, Nott, and Avery's assault by being Dumbledore's 'pet' for the day.

Sirius hadn't known his godson for long, so it was possible that he had been dark. But murdering Diggory? With an Avada Kedavra no less? It seemed impossible that the child of James and Lily Potter was capable of such evil.

And then there was the possibility that he was in fact innocent. If he was, they had locked up a fourteen year old in hell on earth.

What was bothering him the most was how quickly Dumbledore and his friends had turned on Harry. At first, he had thought it more proof that Harry had been dark, but now it only casted doubt on the whole situation. Was something more sinister afoot here?

* * *

A woman was screaming. In his third year, he hadn't known who was screaming, but he knew now; it was his mother just before she had been killed. It was a horrid thing to hear, but Harry was getting used to it now.

The dementor moved on to the next person, and by the time Harry had regained his bearings, he could hear the pained cackles of the only partially sane person on this floor. Unfortunately, Harry couldn't say he liked her very much.

 _Flashback:_

 _Harry was bored. He'd never been talkative, but considering his only company was either dementors or a person whom broke his arms every week, he was starting to believe he could talk for ages. He just needed someone to have a small chat with._

 _Harry crawled over to the bars, not wanting to waste any of his energy than was necessary._

" _Anybody fancies a chat?" he croaked, his voice scratchy with misuse. He hadn't spoken in four months or so after all._

 _He hadn't exactly expected a response, but he was surprised and a bit relieved to know that there was someone else same enough to chat._

" _What does my ickle blood traitor cousin want?" a voice screeched from three cells down._

 _Cousin? He hadn't known he'd had anybody that close in relation. Of course, he couldn't forget that person could not be all there, but they seemed genuinely sane. It gets hard to tell the difference after a while, with only the yells of the insane to measure such._

 _But it did make some bit of sense. He'd heard people call the Weasleys such, so that did technically make him one supposedly._

" _Just a friendly chat and the like. You are still sane, right?" Harry asked conversationally. It never hurt to ask._

" _Are you taunting me, Black?" the voice, now identified as a woman's, growled back menacingly._

 _Brilliant. She was bloody insane._

" _Uhhm…no?"_

 _She seemed to let it go, but that didn't at all mean she was done taunting him. Or somebody in her imagination._

" _Still pinning after your old life, Black? Still mad at that bloody rat, perhaps?" she asked gleefully, still with that annoying cackle._

 _Now Harry may not've been that sharpest tool in the shed, but it was pretty obvious who she was talking about. It all made sense now; this must've been Sirius's cell before his escape._

 _Sometimes it was best to play along. If not for just a little fun._

* * *

There was a piece of broken glass in the corner. He had found it on his first day in. Maybe it was there to encourage suicide, or perhaps, it was for something even more sinister.

Whatever it was there for, Harry used it for his personal grooming. He hated his hair as long as it was; although, he couldn't do much about it—they didn't exactly have a salon in Azkaban.

Any road, today he noticed the few strands of grey in his hair. It was lovely…except it wasn't. He looked like an older man in his thirties—that much time hadn't passed, had it?

Surely not. It had only been a few weeks since he had first talked with Lestrange. Speaking of which…

"Oi, Lestrange!" Harry called, from the bars of his cell. He winced as he did so; it always hurt him to yell.

"Piss off, blood traitor!" she yelled, but it lacked the usual bite. It was almost gleeful.

"You don't want to enjoy a lovely chat?"

"Soon…soon, I shall be rid off you. I'll be the one to kill you!" she said, her insanity back full-fledged.

"Okay…well…you have fun with that. By the way, are you gonna eat your lunch? I could use a second helping." Even though Harry kept his whimsical side suppressed usually, he couldn't help the feeling of foreboding that crept up. Although, it might've been his immense hunger.

* * *

" _Step aside, foolish girl!" said his high, cold voice from the doorway._

" _No! Take me instead!" the foolish mudblood challenged fiercely, her eyes shining with rage—but also despair._

 _Voldemort sighed. 'I tried Severus.'_

" _Avada Kedavra!"_

Harry was awoken from his despairing dream by loud sounds coming from further within the prison. From what best he could tell, it was January. Could there be some kind of prison transfer taking place? It would be best if that happened at the beginning of the year, right?

But it couldn't be that; it was much too loud to be a simple transfer. A prison breakout perhaps? But why would the escapees make so much noise?

Harry shrugged mentally. Who cares? It was about time to wake up anyways.

He stretched as he always did in the mornings and prepared to start his exercises. He'd start by running around his ten by eight foot cell, and finish with some push-ups. What else was there to do?

After he was finished, he waited for breakfast. It usually came while he was doing his exercises; had he woken up earlier than usual? But no, the sounds were getting closer.

Harry attempted to clean his glasses—which had become foul at his current place of residence—but only succeeded in smudging them further.

He heard footsteps, slow and rhythm like, approaching his floor. It could've just been an auror transfer. Where'd he get all this silly thinking about a prison break?

"Bella," a voice called out, "Where are you?"

"Roddy! Is that you?" Lestrange cried out from her cell.

He'd never heard Lestrange use that type of voice before. It was still shrill, but it was actually kind of nice—and strangely—familiar.

"The Dark Lord, he's —"

"Right behind you," Voldemort's chilling voice cut off this 'Roddy' character's sentence.

From just the right spot, and with Harry craning his neck as far as he could, he could see the Dark tosser—his robes billowing—even though there was no breeze in the closed confined hallways of Azkaban.

"My lord!" Lestrange squeaked out and then her voice getting stronger, "I knew you would come for us, master!"

"Of course I would come for some of my most loyal followers," he said and swished his wand to the left. Lestrange's vault was ripped off its hinges and thrown roughly on the ground.

"Thank you, my lord!" Lestrange said, throwing herself to her knees and kissing the hem of his robes. Did all of his followers do that? If they did, that was horribly unsanitary.

"We mustn't be long, the order will be here soon," Voldemort said handing over a walnut wand to Lestrange.

"I have one request, my lord," Lestrange said to a now scowling Dark Lord.

"And that would be?"

"My blood traitor cousin lies in that cell over there," she said, pointing at Harry's cell who ducked backwards as soon as he saw her pointing, "And it would give me great pleasure to kill him."

"Just be quick about it!"

"Thank you, my lord!"

She approached the cell quickly and threw open the cell door, her violet eyes glowing with repressed power. "And now you shall die for…Potter?"

"Potter!" she yelled a bit more loudly, this time with glee.

It seemed as if his name had barely passed her lips that Voldemort appeared beside her. His horrific snake-like face took on a grin, which made his unnaturalness more pronounced.

"Potter," he said smirking. "Look at you, you're all grown up."

Harry's scar was reaching levels of pain not felt since the graveyard. Just another testament to Voldemort's growing power. He still found the strength to glare at his opponent—and dare say—rival.

"Always the feisty one, aren't you, Harry? You could turn that rage on your betrayers, you know? Join me, and we can rule the Wizarding world together!"

Who did this guy think he was? He murdered his parents and set up his incarceration, and he expected Harry to just walk over to his side? To kill his friends? No thank you.

"No thanks, but…I think that guy over there might take you up," Harry said cheekily, pointing at the cell across from his. Of course, that man was insane, so…

Voldemort sighed. "Bloody light," he grumbled.

An unknown death eater appeared behind at the cell, huffing and tenderly holding his bleeding left arm. "My lord…"

"What is it, Yaxley? I asked not to be disturbed," Voldemort growled.

"I'm sorry, my lord, but the order has penetrated our defenses and set up anti-apparation wards."

"WHAT!" Voldemort yelled his rage evident in his voice. "Why wasn't I notified?"

Without letting Yaxley answer, Voldemort cruelly hit him with the cruciatus, giving a faint smirk at Yaxley's writhing body.

He ended the spell and quickly barked, "Take everyone we've got and counterattack, whilst Bella and I take down the wards."

"Y—yes my l—lord," Yaxley stammered before rushing off.

"And you," Voldemort said, turning to face Harry once again, "will be coming with me."

Harry didn't even have the time to think up a witty statement before he was bound, silenced, and floating precariously through the air, hitting his head quite a few times from Tom's carelessness.

* * *

"Everbo!" Sirius roared sending a vertically spinning hammer of magical energy into the hastily erected shield charm. It broke through it, but unfortunately missed the caster who dived out of the way.

Sirius hastily pulled himself back into cover, as death eater spells blasted the space he had been only a second before.

Today had not been a good day at all. The Order had charged into Azkaban as soon as they had known of the death eater assault. A ferocious battle had erupted, and one the Order was ill prepared for.

He knew for a fact that a quarter of the two-hundred or so Order members who had been brought in were dead, and probably many more were wounded.

Of his own 'squad'—as Albus called it—he was the only one left standing. Dedalus, Emmeline, and Mundungus were dead, by killing curses, no less. Nymphadora and Hestia were gravely wounded, having already been apparated out by the medics. And Hermione, Ron, and Ginny—who had all been immediately inducted into the Order—had split as soon as the fighting got rough.

No wonder they abandoned Harry. But now was not the time to think of this…or was it? Harry was here, right now, in Azkaban. And there was a very good chance that he was innocent.

The Order had been reformed when Dumbledore had found that Voldemort had indeed been reincarnated. And Harry had claimed that it had been Voldemort who had killed Cedric. He very well may have condemned his godson to life in hell. Was he even still sane?

A partially tangible wolf bounded into sight, cutting him off from his thoughts—which was a good thing considering there were several death eaters advancing on his position. "Sirius, the death eaters and dementors are making coordinated assaults against all positions. You and your squad are to retreat to the top floor."

'Well…this oughta be interesting,' he thought, thinking of his impending fight just to be able to retreat. 'Wasn't an auror for nothing though.'

"Lumos Maxima!" he yelled, stepping out from behind his cover. His attackers were immediately blinded and forced into cover to escape his light's wrath, and he quickly took off down the hall, not giving the battleground another glance.

He was almost to the stairs leading to the top of Azkaban (his squad hadn't gotten far) when he felt pain lace his leg and he fell to the ground. A well-aimed percutio. And he had been so close.

The death eaters sneered as they stared at his fallen form. He couldn't apparate out; the death eaters had reformed their own apparation wards—no doubt the work of his cousin. He idly considered fighting back, but he wasn't feeling like much of a Gryffindor these days. He dropped his trusty ivy wand on the ground as a sign of surrender.

* * *

Sirius was on his knees with his hands on his head like the rest of the Order. They'd all been captured, or at least, what was left of them that is. About a third of them who had come were left, although, most of the wounded had already been evacuated, but still…

He could safely say that the battle of Azkaban—the first battle of the war—had been a crushing defeat for the light. Score one for the dark. The ministry could've sent reinforcements, but they hadn't, of course. If he survived this, Fudge would be receiving a personal visit from him.

Voldemort and his lovely cousin, Bellatrix came waltzing up the stairs with a bound Harry Potter in tow. Sirius gasped at the sight of him. He hadn't thought that Harry could get any skinnier.

Bellatrix glared at one of the ten surviving aurors with a look of hatred on her face. She pulled out a knife from one of the pockets on her shredded dress and threw it, hitting the defenseless woman between the eyes. She couldn't have been more than twenty—fresh out of the academy.

"Muggleborn scum," Bellatrix snarled.

Voldemort walked up to him and stared him in the eyes, smirking. Sirius growled and glared back defiantly.

"We've a feisty one here," he shouted with a mocking laugh.

Dumbledore—who was on the other side of the prisoners—let out a sigh that could be heard where Sirius was at. "Are you here to initiate Harry into your ranks?"

Sirius and most of the Order looked gobsmacked at Dumbledore. Was he thick? Sirius had never been at one, but he was quite sure that death eater initiations didn't start with one being bound and silenced.

"Dumbledore, Leader of the Light," Voldemort sneered in his direction, "or so you say. What type of leader throws their savior into prison without a fair trial?"

Good point.

"Do you really think that this," Voldemort took a second to point at Harry's feeble body causing shudders of shame to rack Sirius, "could cast an Avada Kedavra against his precious friend?"

Even with Voldemort's not so subtle admission to Harry's wrongdoings, some in the Order didn't catch on. Namely Ronald Weasley.

"Of course he would! He's dark; just like you!" Ron yelled back.

Many of the death eaters laughed. Sirius didn't hear it. He was to busy with his thoughts, how he'd just sent his innocent godson to Azkaban without so much as checking the facts. Just like they'd done to him.

"Well…are you going to kill us? Or is he?" Hermione asked, looking pointedly at Harry. Smartest witch of her age.

Voldemort scowled—something Sirius hoped to never see again—and said, "What d'ya bloody idiots need, a magical oath?"

At this moment, Voldemort was probably the sanest one here.

Voldemort gave a sigh that matched Dumbledore's. "I, Lord Voldemort, swear on my life and magic that I killed Cedric Diggory."

There were several gasps, Sirius' included. Maybe he wasn't very same at all. Voldemort was treading dangerous grounds here, using an oath like that. And what could've been his reasons?

"Lumos," he said, showing that he did in fact still have his magic. Voldemort threw his head back and gave a hearty laugh that chilled Sirius to the bone.

Sirius finally had a chance to get a good look at his obviously frightened, but determined godson and nearly retched at the sight. His messy hair was so covered in grim that the strands stuck together. His eyes were glazed and blinking like he was getting used to the light. Then again, he probably was, having been cooped up in a dark cell for the better part of six months.

"Well…now that we've had our little fun," Voldemort said, pausing for dramatics, "let's get to the best —"

"My lord!"

Voldemort closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to control his anger. "Can I help you, Yaxley?"

Yaxley cringed as he saw the aurors glare at him, knowing he was out of a job if they got away. "The wards have —"

The sounds of apparation filled the air, and suddenly, they were no longer alone. Several units of hit wizards, led by the lovely, but deadly Amelia Bones, had arrived.

Voldemort sneered—something that actually suited his features—and apparated away, quickly followed by his loyal death eaters. For whatever reason, though Sirius was immensely relieved by it, Harry had been left behind—untied and unsilenced.

"Dumbledore," Madam Bones called out. "What is the meaning —?"

"Not now, Madam Bones. I've just found out some terrible news —"

"Is that Sirius Black?" she shrieked, brandishing her wand at him.

"Remus," Dumbledore said sighing, "it seems as if my day is not quite yet over. Please escort young Harry back to Headquarters."

Remus quickly took hold of Harry gently and disapparated, causing Madam Bones to glare at Dumbledore. "Would you mind telling me why you seem to be fraternizing with two convicts, Dumbledore?"

Sirius was to far off in his thoughts to hear the exchange. Harry hadn't even looked, much less spoke to him. 'He must hate me now.' Sirius thought gloomily.

And how could he blame him?

* * *

 **A/N- If anyone is wondering why Voldemort just basically cleared Harry's name, well, it'll all become clear later. Please review, and i'll have the next chapter up ASAP.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N- Here's chapter 2 and thanks for all the favorites and follows! So I forgot to put some major things in last chapter's a/n. First off, and I'm afraid that I'm going to lose like half of everybody when I say this, but I this will never be Harry/Slash, Harry/Hermione, or Harry/Ginny. Because Harry/Ginny is very weird, Harry/Slash is not my thing, and there are too many Harry/Hermione.**

 **And believe it or not, 365 days ago was the first time I ever experienced Harry Potter. I know. That's really sad. So happy anniversary to me! And I've finally done something with my profile.**

 **By the way, if you still know where this story is going after this, I'll be rather surprised. But enough from me, let's get this going!**

* * *

 **Chapter 2- Secrets**

 _January 16_ _th_ _, 1996_

Harry lay in the bed he'd been given at the Order's headquarters. The bed might've been comfortable, but it was simply too soft. He had been forced to sleep on the floor most of the time, as the springs in his 'bed' in Azkaban had poked into his back.

He hadn't really known what to expect when Professor Lupin grabbed his shoulder; Voldemort had just stated that he was innocent, and he wasn't sure what the Order's reaction would be. When they had first apparated, Harry had thought they were going to kill him.

And he still wasn't sure. The Order had arrived right before he and Lupin had and many seemed to not be terribly fond of him. A piece of paper was thrown carelessly at him, and after being ordered to read it, a large townhouse appeared. He didn't have time to wonder as he was marched straight up to this room, and locked inside. Either way, he was once again a prisoner.

He shot up from the bed when he heard a sound by the window. To his relief, it was just an owl. But who would be owling him?

* * *

Dumbledore and Sirius arrived through the floo a couple of hours later. Sirius looked terrible, and Dumbledore looked much worse.

Immediately, the Order began bombarding the two with questions, not even giving the two of them time to sit down.

Lupin immediately took control, trying to quiet the others. He had the same questions, especially those about Harry, but he knew there was time for it later.

"QUIET!" he roared, making good use of the Sonora charm.

The Order instantly quieted, looking incredulously at the usually passive Lupin.

"Thank you, Remus," Dumbledore said. Remus inclined his head slightly, although inside his inner turmoil was starting to get the better of him.

He had never been sure of Harry's guiltiness, but Dumbledore had assured him that it was so. And how could he question a man that let him go to one of the most prestigious magical schools in the world, despite his condition?

The other part of his mind argued that perhaps Voldemort had only placed Harry in their care as a plant to spy on them. But then again, Voldemort had said that he had killed Cedric. Could Voldemort have found a way around magical oaths?

Dumbledore turned to Madam Pomfrey who was sitting with a grave expression in the corner. "How are the wounded?"

"I've all of them stabled except for Miss Tonks."

"Thank you," Dumbledore's eyes looked sad, which enraged Lupin further.

"Sirius will be receiving a trial, so that takes care of one of our problems. How is Harry, Remus?" Dumbledore asked, turning to Remus.

"I wouldn't know, they made me lock him up in a room," Remus answered glaring at the rest of the Order. Many of them looked ashamed, but even he would begrudgingly admit that it was for the best until they could figure out his loyalty.

Dumbledore sighed. "And why, pray tell, do you see it fitting to do such?"

"Because he's a murderer Professor Dumbledore! He's in there planning how to murder the lot of us!" Ron yelled.

The look that overtook his friend's face admittedly frightened Remus. "HOW DARE YOU TALK OF MY GODSON THAT WAY!"

"Sirius — he's a murderer and you know it!" Ron countered his face becoming the color of his hair.

This prompted the Order meeting to dissolve into people trying to force their thoughts of Harry's innocence or guiltiness on the other.

"Everybody, please," Dumbledore shouted so he could be heard over the yells of the more aggressive members. Immediately, there was quiet, displaying just how much respect people felt for the Headmaster. "Harry is indeed innocent."

"But, but —" Hermione said sputtering, "Just because Voldemort —"

"Magical oaths cannot be fooled, Miss Granger," Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling.

"That doesn't change the fact that he opened the Chamber of Secrets and let loose Slytherin's monster upon the school," one of the lower members pointed out.

"YEAH! He almost killed Ginny and Hermione!" Ron said letting his thoughts on the matter be heard.

"I've some new information that suggests that it might not've been Harry —"

Remus had had enough of his gob's wallop. "So you told us to send him to Azkaban, and he hasn't even done anything! You told us he was guilty!" he roared, pointing threateningly at Dumbledore.

Sirius looked at Dumbledore in a new light and stepped away from Dumbledore glaring.

"REMUS! DON'T YOU DARE TALK TO THE HEADMASTER LIKE THAT! HE MAKES MISTAKES, JUST LIKE THE REST OF US!" Molly Weasley screeched. Most of the other Order members were nodding their heads in agreement with her, showing once again that most of the Wizarding populace was sheep.

Remus sat down again, his expression suddenly passive, but his anger no less diminished. Dumbledore may've been human, but this was just seemed a bit to coincidental with the rise of Voldemort.

"We shouldn't leave him alone. I'll go up and check on him," said Sirius, not waiting for Dumbledore's response.

Sirius would know best after all. He knew exactly what it was like to be recently out of Azkaban. Just one more mistake for Remus to add to his growing list.

"I think we should keep him at the Dursleys, so he'll be protected if Voldemort tries —"

"Harry's gone!" Sirius yelled, rushing back into the room.

Remus could've bashed his head into the wall. If Harry was gone, and these people still followed Dumbledore blindly, it was only doing more damage to Harry.

"Minerva," Dumbledore said, coming to his feet, "Gather the reserve Order members. Meet me at the Leaky Cauldron."

Remus and Sirius shared a glance. "We're coming to," Sirius said, speaking up for the two of them. Dumbledore looked as if he wanted to argue, but he wisely held his tongue.

Hopefully, Sirius and he could mislead the Order if Harry was indeed doing a runner.

* * *

 _Enter, stranger, but take heed_

 _Of what awaits the sin of greed,_

 _For those who take, but do not earn,_

 _Must pay most dearly in their turn._

 _So if you seek beneath our floors_

 _A treasure that was never yours,_

 _Thief, you have been warned, beware_

 _Of finding more than treasure there._

Even the simplest things were exciting for Harry after his wrongful confinement. It had taken him nearly thirty minutes to get down the alley, his blue eyes shining with wonderment.

With a simple glamour and rearranging his name, he became Orphrey Tart—a muggleborn wizard with brown hair, blue eyes, and most importantly, no scar.

He entered Gringotts unsurely, not entirely certain of what he was to do. His hand clenched around the letter he held in his hand, staring at the glaring goblins.

Harry walked up to the same teller he had went to with Hagrid on his first trip to Diagon Alley. "Uhhm…Mr. Goblin, sir," Harry said nervously, trying to get the irritable creature's attention.

The goblin glanced at him, sneered, and went back to whatever he was doing. Goblins were just such wonderful creatures that filled Harry with joy.

Going for a different approach, Harry placed—a bit rudely he would admit—the parchment in front of the documents the still unnamed goblin was looking over. "I received this letter asking if I could come to the bank. Could you perhaps help me?"

A bit of sucking up never hurt, especially considering Harry's previous rudeness. The goblin looked up, eyes wide, probably looking for Harry's scar.

"Glamour," Harry whispered.

The goblin nodded in understanding. "Follow me, Mr…?" the goblin said, waiting for Harry's fake name.

"Tart."

"Very well. Follow me, Mr. Tart."

The goblin led him past the main teller, into the rear of the bank. Harry was surprised to find a well-decorated, almost human-like, hallway. Harry was forced to trot to keep up with the goblin; they may be small, but they're fast little buggers.

The hallway forked just a little ways down, and they took the right path. A little ways more and the goblin abruptly stopped, causing Harry to make use of his evasion skills.

The teller looked at him amusedly before opening the well-polished wood door. The door had some sort of seal on it; he'd seen it before but he couldn't place where.

"Here is Mr. Potter, Nagnok," the goblin said, only letting his head be seen by the other goblin in the room.

"Ah…yes…thank you, Bogrod. You are dismissed." The goblin named Bogrod nodded his head towards his colleague and left, heading back down the direction he came.

Harry had yet to enter the room; he was exhausted from his short journey. Even though he wasn't as out of shape as the average prisoner, he certainly wasn't winning any awards in his current condition.

"Mr. Potter — if you could please join me in my office," the goblin named Nagnok called. Harry blushed, forgetting that it was not just his time that was being wasted.

Harry stood up as quickly as possible, and slumped into the plush, Gryffindor red chair that faced the aging goblin. The door closed behind him, magically of course.

"I've been trying to contact you for ages now," Nagnok said, smiling. While it was a terrifying display, Harry immediately liked this goblin.

"I've been a bit busy lately."

"I can tell," the goblin barked a laugh before sliding the Daily Prophet across the table; "you've made the front page."

Harry investigated the paper and found that the goblin was indeed correct. At least he knew he had somebody partially on his side; Dumbledore must've told that lady he was innocent.

 _The boy-who-lived…innocent?_

 _At precisely seven o'clock this morning, the Department of Magical Law Enforcement received a dispatch from Azkaban prison. The prison was under attack._

 _Eight units of hit wizards arrived on the scene shortly after eight o'clock, having had problems breaking through the wards. What they arrived to was unimaginable._

 _The prison had been turned into a war ground between death eaters and a vigilante group led by Albus Dumbledore. While that was certainly surprising, the most important discovery was the leader of the death eaters: Lord Voldemort._

 _That's right loyal readers. Lord Voldemort is back. Harry Potter had not been lying at all. Mr. Potter has been cleared of all charges and is assumedly resting at home._

 _On behalf of the Daily Prophet, we thank you Mr. Potter for being so brave and standing up for what you believed in!_

* * *

Amelia slammed the paper down on her desk and glared at her most accomplished auror—Kingsley Shacklebolt.

"How in the hell did they get this information!"

"At least they actually put the truth —"

"A TRUTH THAT'S GOING TO SCARE PEOPLE SHITLESS!" she roared. Amelia was not happy with several people right now—not at Kingsley, who had and still was her best friend—and that never mixes well with redheads.

"I want the names of every hit wizard that has left this building prior to nine o'clock," she ordered, unlocking the top drawer of her desk.

Kingsley was still there, watching her warily. Hadn't she just told him to go?

"Get out," she growled. Kingsley didn't need another word and skedaddled from the room. He knew not to mess with her when she was mad.

Amelia sighed and pulled out a bottle of firewhiskey from her desk. Firewhiskey made everything better.

* * *

'I believed in my freedom, if that's what they meant,' Harry thought grimly as he read the final line of the prophet.

"I suppose so, Mr. Nagnok."

"Unfortunately, this is not why I summoned you here," Nagnok said, his voice slipping into a business type tone.

"Is there a problem, sir?" Harry asked quizzically.

"There are…some discrepancies with your account." Nagnok grimaced as he said discrepancies, as if just saying the word left a bad taste in his mouth.

"I'm afraid I don't know what that means, sir," Harry said blushing. He'd never heard the word in his life though, he probably wouldn't have remembered even if he had.

Nagnok grimaced. "To put it lightly, someone has been stealing from your vaults."

There were so many things wrong with that sentence. "First off, I've only one vault. Secondly, I thought Gringotts was impossible to break into?"

"The Potters are an old family; as old as the Blacks to be exact. They've accumulated quite a lot of gold, and it couldn't all fit in that vault at all," Nagnok explained.

"But this isn't your biggest problem; in fact, it may not be your problem at all."

Let's see. Harry's vaults were being stolen from, it sounds as if they had yet to catch the culprit, but apparently, that might not be his problem. It sounded a good bit like his bloody problem.

What could be worse than somebody stealing from him while he was in a hellhole? That pretty much takes the cake doesn't it?

"And what would that problem be?" Harry asked cautiously.

Nagnok sighed, and Harry got a feeling that he was not going to enjoy this very much.

"Long or short version?" Nagnok asked, looking more than a bit uncomfortable.

After the events of the morning—it wasn't even noon yet—Harry was rather tired, and didn't fancy a long chat. "Short, please."

Nagnok sucked in a deep breath—he acted more like a human than a goblin—and began: "Now keep in mind that it's only a theory. I cannot stress the importance of that sentence enough." He stopped and waited for Harry's acknowledgement.

"Alright, go ahead."

"This is a special piece of parchment," Nagnok said placing it in front of Harry. "A few drops of your blood and it will tell you your family history, parents, siblings and families you're descended from."

Nagnok handed Harry a small knife so he could prick his finger. Harry looked at it uncertainly; he never had been terribly fond of blood, even though it usually meant the pain would retreat, if only till the next day.

"It shouldn't hurt," Nagnok said, urging him on.

Harry winced as he sliced his finger and held it over the parchment. After the tenth drop of blood Nagnok pulled the parchment away from him. Nagnok sighed, though rather in relief or in distress, Harry could not tell.

"Here," Nagnok said, handing it over. Harry was reluctant of what he'd find; life had never been easy, so why would that change now.

 _Name: Harry James Potter (adopted), Herakles Salazar Black (Riddle)_

 _Parents: Tom Marvolo Riddle, Bellatrix Druella Lestrange nee Black_

 _Siblings: None_

 _Marriage Contract: Amelia Susan Bones_

"You don't actually believe this rubbish, do you?" Harry asked sweating profusely. He knew he had bad luck, but this was ridiculous.

"Unfortunately, Harry, it's the truth. Blood cannot be fooled in the magical world," Nagnok said sighing, and Harry noticed how he went from being called Mr. Potter to Harry. It was a suitable nickname.

"But everyone says I look just like James and Lily Potter! How could I —"

"I assume you have a glamour on you. We can take care of that if you would like?"

As much as Harry would like the stability, it was an insult to James and Lily Potter to continue walking around with their features. Besides, Harry had learned to just take life at face value. He could cry and scream and fuss, but it wouldn't change the fact that his parents were not who he thought they were.

"Please, sir. But are you certain? They say I have my parent's personalities," Harry countered, in some way trying to prove it was an elaborate joke by Sirius.

Nagnok chuckled. "I remember a young Bellatrix coming to Gringotts. She was just as timid as you are."

Harry was surprised. Bellatrix Lestrange timid? That was rather absurd.

Nagnok offered no more room for argument as he immediately started to remove the glamour. Goblins apparently didn't have to use wands as Nagnok simply brought his hand up, which almost immediately seemed to hit resistance, with Nagnok struggling to push through.

Harry could feel something—that can only be described as magic—leaving his skin. The feeling went down to his bones, and he grunted in pain as they seemed to move and grow.

Fortunately, Nagnok finished quickly, breathing heavily. "That was quite the glamour, Harry. Very complex magic, courtesy of Lily Potter no doubt," he said chuckling.

Harry opened his eyes, and Nagnok gasped. "Would you like to see?"

Harry nodded unsurely. This was his new look after all. He just hoped he didn't get Voldemort's horrible red eyes.

Nagnok conjured a large mirror in front of him. He had been hoping that he would get the eyes that Tom had before he became all evil—onyx. Unfortunately, he had Lestra—his mother's deep violet eyes. Hell, he looked just like her—except for Riddle's ebony hair.

The gravity of the situation finally made its way to the forefront of his mind. His father had killed his adopted parents, had tried to kill him multiple times, and had—admittedly—unintentionally thrown him in Azkaban. A great story to tell his children…

"Wait a second!" Harry shouted remembering something important. "What's this about a marriage contract?"

"You're to be married to Amelia Bones. A real firecracker that one! And she's the head of the magical law enforcement department—a convenient union for one who plans on fighting a war."

"Oh…"

There was a knock on the door, one that was rather urgent it seemed. "In fact, there she is now."

* * *

Amelia took another swig from her bottle of firewhiskey. She needed to get back to work; there was always plenty to come by in her occupation.

Ever since the death of her entire family by You-Know-Who, it had been her only comfort. Well there was her niece Susan, but she probably only made it worse. She looked so much like her father.

She took another drink; she really should stop; it wouldn't do for her to get pissed at work.

There was a knock on her door and Amelia quickly moved the bottle out of sight. It was probably that bumbling idiot Fudge, wanting to remove more funding from her already underfunded department.

"Come in," she said with authority that few could challenge.

She was surprised to find that it was just a messenger boy—probably bringing her something an owl had dropped off at the front desk. He dropped the letter on her desk and turned to leave.

Amelia noted red hair and said, "Thank you, Weasley," she said, assuming it was Fudge's junior assistant.

"It's actually Weatherby, ma'am," he corrected. "Why does everybody call me, Weasley?" he muttered, exiting the room.

She opened the letter expecting it to be from Susan. Amelia recognized the Gringotts seal and immediately opened it, worried there might be a problem with her account.

Instead, it read:

 _Dear Lady Bones,_

 _We are to inform you that the marriage contract between House Black and House Bones has been reinstated. If rejected, both parties will witness the loss of no less than half of their magic._

 _You are needed immediately at Gringotts. Failure to do so will forfeit the contract._

Well…shit.

Amelia quickly poked her head out of her office, looking for her secretary. Finding her sitting dutifully behind her desk, she said, "I've got to go out. Familial matters."

"Something wrong with Susan?"

The only person who knew more about her than Kingsley was her secretary, a muggleborn witch, Anna Titus. Despite their positions as superior and subordinate (in their jobs of course) they had maintained a strong friendship.

She knew it there was anyone she could trust, it was Anna. But instead, Amelia only responded vaguely, "Something like that."

She apparated on the spot, having the liberty to do so since she was a department head. The job definitely had its perks.

She arrived next to Gringotts with perfect balance, having done this for years. An interesting scene was developing before her at the gates of the bank. Dumbledore and some of his goons were foolishly trying to force their way into the bank. Sounded like a quick way to start another goblin rebellion.

"What is the meaning of this?" she yelled, furious that the leading diplomat in the world was prodding this fragile peace.

"Madam Bones," Dumbledore greeted inclining his head ever so slightly, "what are the chances that we'd see each other twice in the same hour?"

"You didn't answer my question, Dumbledore."

He sighed, a glint of sadness in his eyes. "Mr. Potter seems to have gone missing. Appears to have done a runner. We were hoping to catch him at the bank, but the goblins are declining our entry."

"It seems I made the wrong decision, putting him in your care."

"It does seem that way…"

"Well Dumbledore, I must be off. But please do find Mr. Potter, or I'll be forced to find him for you," she said, her hint reaching the much older man.

Amelia turned and marched into the bank, becoming increasingly nervous as she came closer to the main teller. Goblins had always frightened her, and Binn's incessant monologues about the rebellions hadn't helped her fear at all.

"May I help you," the goblin said sneering.

Amelia shrunk back, causing the goblin to grin wickedly. She was the head of the Department of Law Enforcement! She shouldn't be scared of a goblin. These tellers were only nasty because of having to deal with wizards like Malfoy. Her account manager was much friendlier.

"I'm here to see, Nagnok. I received this letter from him," she said steeling herself and placing the letter before the goblin.

The goblin snatched it up, read it, gave a feral grin, and pointed to the hallway behind him. "Take a right at the fork. It's the tenth door on the right," he directed unclearly.

Amelia followed his directions to the letter, stopping in front of a door that had the Potter crest on it. This was the right room, right?

The fact that she was to be married finally hit her. Before, she had only thought of the loss of her magic. Who was this Black fellow? Was he a death eater? She knocked on the door, urgently wanting to find out. This was the rest of her life after all.

Better to embrace it than to lose the majority of her magic. If this guy was a death eater, all she'd have to do is prove and the contract would be void. And if he wasn't…Blacks weren't the most coveted people in Britain because they were ugly by any means. No, quite the opposite.

"Come in." The dreaded words were spoken from the other side of the door. A part of her longed to have someone to be with; she was thirty-three after all. Most of her friends who had survived the war had already settled down and had a family. Sure, she had Susan who was like a daughter to her, but…it just wasn't the same. Maybe, if this all worked out…

She had stalled long enough; it was time. She steeled her nerves and put on her practiced to perfection pure-blood mask, and opened the door.

There were two occupants in the room, a goblin—most likely Nagnok, and her husband-to-be. He turned around and she gasped as she saw his sunken cheeks and sullen violet eyes. If it wasn't for his hair, she would've been sure that she was looking at Bellatrix Lestrange.

"Hello, Madam Bones. Please take a seat," Nagnok said, pointing to the other chair.

She sat down stiffly, staring at the face of one of her worst nightmares. It was Lestrange who had killed her parents, and Susan's as well, while a girl of twenty was held down in the corner. It was a miracle that she'd been able to grab baby Susan and portkey to safety.

"Meet your husband-to-be, Herakles Black, formerly known as Harry Potter," Nagnok introduced. "And this is Amelia Bones, your wife-to-be, Harry."

"Nice to meet you," Harry said, avoiding her incredulous gaze.

"Potter," Amelia murmured.

"Yes, it seems that Harry was adopted by the Potters, not truly their child. Which brings us to our next problem, which is another reason why I called you here Madam Bones; the Potter's did not leave a will."

"They didn't?" Amelia gasped.

"Unfortunately not. However, Harry is legally listed as their heir. He can —"

"I see what this is. He has to be an adult to take over any houses?" Amelia interrupted. This was some shit that Malfoy had passed through a few years ago.

Nagnok nodded.

"And as a legal adult and his fiancée, I can give consent for him to take over his houses?"

Nagnok nodded once more, grinning wildly.

"Very clever, Master goblin. May I ask which houses he stands to inherit?"

Harry was looking between the two of them with evident confusion. Hadn't Dumbledore told him of pure-blood houses and traditions?

"He is currently able to become Lord Potter and Lord Black. He is heir to House Gaunt and 2nd in line to the heirship of House Rosier," Nagnok explained.

"Quite an impressive resume," Amelia joked to Harry. That truly was how most departments hired after all. Harry didn't even laugh; he was focused solely on Nagnok.

"Please sign here," Nagnok said before placing an identical paper beside it, "and here." Amelia quickly signed in the allotted spots.

"That should be about it," Nagnok said. "I've lots of paper work to do; do you have anymore questions?"

"I've one," Amelia said after a small period of silence. "I personally saw Lily Potter pregnant. How can Harry not be her child?"

"Unfortunately, I cannot answer your question. All I know is that young Harry here was indeed adopted and a powerful, complicated glamour placed on him."

Another short period of silence before Amelia came up with another question, "What are the terms of the marriage contract?"

"Oh yes, I almost forgot," Nagnok murmured looking for the contract. Finding it he said, "It's a mutual agreement; therefore, the loss of magic for both sides. It is never explicitly stated that a consummation is ever needed, though you must be married in six months time at the latest. The only way out is through death."

Amelia sighed contentedly. It was one of the simplest things she'd heard all day. Yet then again, it wasn't. How was she to tell Susan that one of her former classmates was to be her new uncle? At least she had some time before she had to face her.

"I think this sums up our meeting, Master Nagnok," Amelia finally said.

"Indeed. I shall be sending the financial records of both houses to you shortly. And be sure to stay safe," the friendly but devious goblin advised, suddenly serious.

"Do we have permission to apparate from your office?" Amelia asked politely. It was usually allowed, but it was always be better to be certain.

"Of course."

Amelia grabbed her fiancé's shoulder and apparated to Bones Manor. Upon arrival, Harry stumbled, but managed to reassert control of his body—though with great difficulty. He must be completely knackered after such an eventful day, and it was only now nearing noon.

"You must be exhausted. Let's get you up to one of the rooms, dear." She blushed as she said 'dear' most likely meaning it in a motherly fashion.

* * *

The room that they had arrived in—most likely a foyer—was decorated like he assumed most pure-blood homes would be like, lavishly. It wasn't terribly large, but still bigger than—perhaps—his dorm at Hogwarts.

What he noticed almost immediately was the tapestry of the Bones family. He noted with respect that the family proudly displayed their members who had married muggleborns, though that was only among the feeder lines, the main line remained pure.

Madam Bones led him up some stairs to the room which he would be occupying the duration of his time here. He thanked her, and she left, suddenly seeming quite nervous around him.

He'd be a fool to say he wasn't attracted to the older woman. She was pleasant, quite attractive—especially for her age, and that was before mentioning that amazing bust…

But putting aside his foolish teenage hormones, Harry knew the cold, hard truth. He knew she didn't want anything to do with him; she was simply doing this because of obligations.

Harry prided himself with being a realist. He was getting trapped in a loveless marriage for the rest of his life, and he'd probably only be treated slightly better here than with the Dursleys. He was ruining her life after all. She just didn't understand it yet, but she would eventually. Then again, there was a rather good chance that he wouldn't survive past sixteen, with Voldemort back and all.

Harry lay down on the pink and black decorated bed, finally letting sleep claim him.

* * *

Voldemort exited Potter's mind, a shocked but gleeful expression on his face. Turns out, he wasn't a Potter at all, but his son! And best of all, he was nearly broken, longing for family. He could use this to his advantage.

He never had wanted an heir. Heirs always end up trying to seize the power that their fathers had worked so hard for.

So when he found out Bellatrix was pregnant after one of their evening frolics, he ordered that she get rid of it. Being the pure-blooded witch that she was, she knew nothing of the muggle world—much less abortion.

Bellatrix had birthed the child and abandoned it, after naming it apparently. She would be punished severely for this. No wonder the killing curse had rebounded! Probably some sort of stupid family magic.

But back to the plan. He'd have the child bring his fiancée—who just happened to be the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement—and then have him kill Dumbledore; it would be a beautiful sight; then he would kill the child, wiping out his only opposition with only having to lift a single hand. He knew it was a brilliant idea to free the boy.

* * *

 **A/N- I was going to wait on the whole different parents thing till later, but I figured now was as good a time as any. I know Bellatrix's eyes are supposed to be brown, but violet is just so unique.**

 **Don't forget to review!**


	3. Chapter 3

_**A/N- Howdy folks! Sorry about the long wait; school started back on August 10 and then cross country started on Monday...**_

 _ **Anyways, here's the next chapter.**_

 _ **Oh and by the way, Windows 10 is brilliant, but I apparently don't have Word on it, so hopefully I didn't make to many spelling and grammar mistakes!**_

 _ **Disclaimer: I don't own it. Never have and most likely never will!**_

* * *

 **Chapter 3- Baptism**

 _January 16_ _th_ _, 1996_

Harry awoke with the sun's rays traveling over his eyes. That meant he hadn't slept till nighttime; good. The grandfather clock in the corner was notched at five o'clock in the evening.

Harry couldn't help but to think more on his situation. James and Lily Potter had sacrificed themselves for him—and he wasn't even their child. Then again, he was their child, they had adopted him after all.

At least with his new name, he could continue to call himself Harry; what kind of name was Herakles anyways? He idly wondered why his last name wasn't Riddle, but then he remembered that he was probably conceived when both parties were unmarried, meaning he was a bastard child. Just another title to help him get up in the mornings.

Had Voldemort known? He had freed him from Azkaban after all. Although, Voldemort had inadvertently placed him there also, but he would want to control his heir right?

It was time to get up. Harry tried to get up but immediately fell back as various parts of his body protested the movement by making odd popping sounds. His bones were all stiff and the few muscles that remained on his meager body ached with the slightest movement. Sleeping on a soft bed after half a year of sleeping on little better than stone wasn't such a good idea after all.

He stood up slowly and stretched, his back popping furiously. His stomach growled and he remembered that he hadn't had any nourishment today. Well the kitchen was certainly around here somewhere. Amelia hadn't said not to leave his room right?

He made his way slowly down the stairs, being as quiet as possible. The house—or rather mansion by the size of it—was eerily quiet; not a sound could be heard at all.

At the bottom of the stairs, Harry turned into the room on the left. They had went straight from the foyer to his room, so he didn't have a clue of the mansion's layout.

The room appeared to be a sort of lounging room; decorated, you guessed it, beautifully. Amelia was peacefully dozing in a chair, a book abandoned in her lap. Well, it wouldn't do to wake her; he'd find the kitchens on his own.

* * *

For as long as he could remember, cooking had always been a bittersweet experience for Harry. He respected the art of cooking and was most likely the reason that insanity didn't overtake him at the Dursley's.

It was different than a chore for him. A reprieve from the horrors that were forced upon him there. And it helped that he was rather good at it.

He was making one of his favorite dishes to cook: basil Thai chicken. Unfortunately, he'd never actually tasted it. It was a simple meal; something he could do in his sleep. The Dursleys loved it too after all.

At first, he was only making it for himself. That's how he'd finally convinced the elves to let him cook. But then, he realized that Amelia would probably be hungry as well, and it was the least he could do for her hospitality. He loathed the thought of cooking for someone, just another lesson learned at his favorite aunt's house. Wait, she wasn't even his aunt!

"What are you doing in my house?" a girly voice with a hint of terror in it yelled from the other side of the kitchen.

Harry spun—nearly hitting himself with the iron skillet he held in his hand—to see a brownish looking wand staring him in the face. The owner had strawberry colored hair, which aside from this, Harry would've thought it was his new fiancée. Susan Bones.

"Uh hello, I'm —"

The tip of Susan's wand turned an orangey-red and a ball of flame was produced, sent spiraling the few feet that was between them. She hadn't even given him a chance to explain.

Harry brought up the iron skillet to protect himself, and not a moment to soon. The Incendio Susan had cast slammed into the cooking utensil with such force that it flew out of Harry's now scalded hands.

He decided to take advantage of Susan's surprise and dived out of the way, hiding behind the kitchen island.

Susan was already bombarding the defenseless counter with a number of pseudo-deadly spells. He was going to have to defend himself; he just hoped Amelia wouldn't get to mad.

Harry jumped out from his hiding spot, brandishing an iron skillet, intent on giving her a couple whacks on the head.

Susan quickly countered with an disarming charm.

The spell hit him dead on, sending him flying backwards, and the skillet to fly into the air. Unfortunately, the spell didn't stop there and started ricocheting off of the walls like bullets. The skirmish quickly turned…strange, with Harry and Susan dodging the disarming charm whilst fighting a fierce hand-to-hand battle. It was like a very dangerous game of ping-pong. It would've been rather comical, that is, from a spectator's point-of-view.

Harry went to knee, dodging a cutting curse, and used it as an advantage to charge Susan, who had no hope of dodging. And thus, the situation that his wife-to-be entered into did not shine him in a good light.

The kitchen was in a state of disarray. Maybe disarray didn't quite cover it. Absolutely destroyed fit better. The only surface that didn't have damage to it was the stove. The island was non-existent.

Harry had her niece pinned in a very sexual position. Of course, it had all been self-defense, but Harry doubted Amelia would take it that way.

"What in the devil is going on here!" Amelia shouted, gripping her wand tightly.

"Auntie!" Susan shouted relieved. "this man…he was…and I!" She was stumbling over her words something fierce. Probably trying to come up with a lie.

"I heard something in the kitchen and I went to investigate and this guy attacks me! I didn't even do anything wrong!" Bloody kids. Always wanting to make themselves out to be the hero.

"HE WHAT?" Amelia growled getting red in the face—much like Vernon—and pointing her wand threateningly at him. He had to diffuse this situation fast before the powerful witch in front of him blasted him to dust.

"Now, now, Susan," Harry said in a chiding manner, "it's not right to lie. Why don't we tell Auntie Amelia the truth now?" He probably hadn't helped his case much with the childish scolding.

"Alright, so maybe I attacked him first," Susan said pouting slightly causing Amelia to lower her wand. As soon as Susan saw her aunt lower her wand she quickly went serious again.

"Who is he? What is he doing here? Why haven't you attacked him? Are you just going to stand there, Auntie?" The rapid succession of questions left Harry's mind reeling.

Harry glanced at Amelia, expecting her to do the same, but she didn't—keeping her eyes on her niece. Didn't people do that when they both knew something?

"There are a few things I need to tell you, Susan. Go to the dining hall and I'll be there momentarily."

Susan sent a distrusting glance at Harry and left the room. As soon as she was gone, Amelia grabbed ahold of his arm. "We'll talk later," she growled, before leaving herself. Harry was to busy gawking to reply. He hadn't done anything!

* * *

Susan took the news rather well. At least she looked at Harry in a new light. Unfortunately, Amelia's thoughts on him only seemed to worsen after the incident. She had been rude enough to refuse the food he had made—probably because she thought it was poisoned or some shit.

Harry wouldn't admit that it hurt quite a bit, but he got over it. Susan had enjoyed the meal after all.

After dinner, they retired to the lounging room that Amelia had occupied before five. Harry took a seat in one of the more comfortable looking couches, across from the twin chairs that the Bones' occupied.

"So, Susan," Amelia began, trying to interrupt the silence, "What brings you here? You should be at school."

"Professor Sprout said that I could spend the night here as long as I was back by breakfast tomorrow," Susan explained. "But I think I better leave so you two can get…acquainted," she teased.

Amelia glared at her, causing Harry to give a disapproving grunt. She was just taking the mickey out on them; what was the bloody problem?

"Could you do me a favor when you get back to Hogwarts, Susan?" Harry asked, speaking up for the first time. His voice was still hoarse as he still wasn't used to talking yet.

"What's that, _uncle_?" she asked grinning.

Harry decided to ignore it and continued on seriously, "I need to know who believes in my innocence."

Susan's smile morphed into a serious expression. "I can give you a rough estimate now. Most of Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw are behind you. The Gryffindors are divided, and the Slytherins —"

"I don't care about the snakes," Harry said calmly, but forcefully. He didn't need to get stabbed in the back, whilst recovering from…well getting stabbed in the back.

"You don't need to worry about them; they don't seem to care much," Susan continued.

This was a decent development. He had at least two of the houses behind him and that was something. Of course, they would need to be trained, but he could have them battle-ready in a few months.

He was surprised that the Gryffindors actually cared enough about him to be divided. The leaders of the house had led the charge against him after all. It didn't matter much; he wasn't feeling like much of a Gryffindor these days.

"Why do you ask, Harry?" Susan's voice cut through his thoughts.

"Because," he stopped dramatically, not even really meaning to, "I need an army."

* * *

"We can't find Harry anywhere." Those words had reverberated around his mind all day.

Had he been captured by death eaters? Possible, but doubtful.

Had the ministry stepped in and found him? Unlikely and improbable, but possible.

Had he gotten lost? Doubtful, but possible.

There was an answer to every question, except for the one of his godson's location. If only he had went with the Order instead of facing Madam Bones, he could've comforted Harry, and convinced those bloody Order members not to lock him up like an animal.

But "if onlys" were of the past and it was now time to look to the future. To take action for once.

Screw the Order; they had new recruits coming in everyday. Well it may be best if they were called what they really were: cannon fodder.

And as befuddled as his mind was, it couldn't have been clearer. Dumbledore's chess playing and manipulations; Harry being sent to the Dursleys; him being sent to Azkaban; Remus leaving England for twelve years.

This was it. He'd find his godson and they'd have a real family; one to be proud of. And he'd bring Moony too, kicking and screaming if necessary. But first, some information gathering never hurt, right?

* * *

Amelia woke up sweating profusely. Those horrid violet eyes! These dreams had been terrible, nightly occurrences, but never had it been so vivid as it did now. Probably because the offspring of the owner of those terrifying, yet beautiful eyes lay in an room adjacent to her own.

She filled with anger. He was arrogant, snobbish, and quiet. These qualities seemed to contradict themselves, yet they all manifested perfectly in him. Probably got it from that no good mother of his. She had been dark from the start, so why wouldn't he be the same?

There was a chance that she was simply being biased. Susan and he got along quite well after all.

She was being horribly tendentious; he seemed to be a rather good kid. And he'd just gotten out of Azkaban and she hadn't even given him a chance to prove otherwise. She was being not being a very good host at all.

Deciding to fix that in the morning, she fell into a slightly less fitful sleep.

* * *

"MADAM BONES!"

Amelia jumped out of bed, unable to assess the situation, but battle-ready all the same. She looked blearily at the clock in the corner, noting quickly that it was three-thirty in the morning.

"Madam Bones, ma'am!" a voice called from the floo, slightly less loud. Amelia turned and was surprised to find her secretary and friend's head sticking out of it.

"Anna, it's rather early for a chat —"

"Death Eaters!" Anna interrupted, "they've been spotted in a muggle village outside Edinburgh!"

Amelia froze up for a few seconds. Never in her career had she had to deal with a situation such as this. Should she alert Dumble…no, this was her job.

"Scramble all available hit wizards! I'll be there in just a moment," Amelia yelled dashing around her bedroom, looking for any suitable article of clothing.

Anna disconnected the floo, and Amelia quickly changed into her robes. She'd change into her battle robes at the Ministry; she just hoped that not to many muggles would die before they got there.

She dived into the floo, shouting her destination, and she caught a quick glimpse of Harry barreling into her room. What horrid manners!

* * *

The frantic voices inside Amelia's room hadn't stopped and Harry was getting worried. Both he and Susan—who had ended up staying the night after all—had tried to open the door, but it wouldn't budge, even by Susan's magical means.

Eventually, Harry threw his whole weight on the door and it gave way. He only caught a glance, before Amelia flooed away, giving a startled expression at his entrance.

There weren't any intruders that Harry could see, but that didn't help him to relax at all. If anything, it put him even further on guard, as a hidden enemy was even worse.

"Where'd she go?" Susan asked, entering the room warily.

"Floo," Harry answered gruffly.

Susan gasped. "There must've been a problem at the ministry then; that's the only reason she would leave this early."

"Smells like death eaters."

"Huh?" Susan looked at him strangely. Smells probably wasn't the best word to use, considering that he had just gotten out of prison and trying to prove that he didn't need to spend the rest of his life in the asylum, but Susan only gave him a wary glance.

"I'm going," Harry said with finality, turning around to march back to his room.

"I want to go too," Susan declared hotly, her chin immediately rising.

Harry gave Susan a calculated glance. "No," he finally answered.

"Why not?" Susan went from slightly blushing from his gaze to her face being contorted with rage.

"This is war, Susan; not Defense Against the Dark Arts with Lockhart. I saw things yesterday that I wish I never had," Harry said, with a haunted expression, reminiscing back to the Battle of Azkaban.

Susan was silent. Good — maybe she understood.

Harry rushed across the room, grabbed some floo powder, threw it into the fiery hot fireplace, and jumped into the bright green flame. "British Ministry of Magic!"

Susan's eyes suddenly bulged and he could barely make out her expostulation, "But you don't even have a wa—"

* * *

Harry was spit out of one of the fireplaces into the Atrium of the ministry. He remembered it well from his "trial."

Chaos was abundant. Wizards dressed in rugged red robes were everywhere, running frantically. Several people were shouting orders, and orderlies were carrying out said orders.

In the midst of this, the wizarding savior was unceremoniously deposited from the floo, still dressed in his jammies. Nobody paid him any mind.

Harry picked himself off the floor and followed the strangely robed 'army.' Several people gave him glances, but they never said anything. They congregated at a sort of meeting hall only slightly down the hall.

Harry took cover behind one of the pillars of to the side and settled down to keep out of sight. It didn't take long before Amelia—he could tell who she was by her voice—began speaking.

"Just moments ago, we received word of a death eater raid on a small muggle village south of Edinburgh." She was forced to pause for the bombardment of questions that followed her announcement.

She continued after the crowd was under control again: "We have intelligence that suggests that there are only a few dozen if not less. It should be a rather simple in and out mission. I'm taking 2nd Company and a platoon of aurors. The rest of you are to stay here and be ready to provide backup."

Amelia's long winded speech left an affect on Harry; he suddenly felt as if something was about to go wrong. He needed a plan, and quick.

Unfortunately, the telltale signs of apparition reverberated around the dome-like room that he occupied, leaving him with a room of bored hit wizards and aurors and a very slim chance of escape without being detected.

* * *

"Madam Bones, we have the building surrounded," Kingsley said in his deep, booming voice.

It had been easy; they had apparated in, taking the death eaters by surprise and hemmed them into a building. The death eaters had been admittedly amazing fighters, leaving the village covered with dead and wounded from both sides.

"Good, now we need to —" she began, but was interrupted by a noise that sounded very much like a funnel. She knew what it was at once: portkeys. And loads of them at that.

Amelia locked eyes with Bellatrix Lestrange—who seemed to be leading a group of several hundred death eaters. They were completely surrounded.

"Reductos on three!" she shouted so her hundred-or-so soldiers could hear. It was about to get even bloodier.

* * *

Harry was not the luckiest boy in the universe by any means. But right now, he was feeling rather lucky.

He had been stealthily evading the lounging hit wizards, when an alarm sounded. Within the minute, every soldier in the room was gone, barely leaving a trace in which direction they were headed.

He followed, hiding in the shadows when necessary. He scrambled through a door, that was closing and jumped behind a conveniently placed box.

He watched as two groups of soldiers disappeared by what looked like a portkey, leaving just a single group behind.

The leader, a portly bloke with balding hair spoke up: "The first wave was ambushed." There were a couple of gasps before he continued, "We've suffered heavy losses. We're calling in more men, but for now, we're all we've got."

"But sir," one of the females said, a quiver in her voice, "We're not combat ready! I only joined three days ago!"

"Yes — and I'm almost sixty years old. Do you think I belong on the battlefield?" It must've been a rhetorical question because the man quickly continued, "Alright then if there are no more questions…"

The portkey activated and took Harry a second to realize that this was his only chance. He flung himself across the room and grabbed onto the one of the hit wizards arms before they portkeyed away.

He opened his eyes and he immediately regretted the action. The sight that greeted him was a gruesome one; he was staring into the face of a dead man.

The spell-fire was intense and brilliant, but deadly. The fires dancing across the grounds mixed with the screams of the wounded and the victorious yells of those who bested them were like a perverse song-and-dance and Harry was not liking it one bit.

He picked himself off the ground, only to stare into the eyes of the man of whom he had latched onto to. Harry expected the man to say something, but instead he fell slowly to his knees and then to the ground, where Harry could clearly see the blood gushing out of his back.

Harry wanted to scream, but he held his tongue. Instead, he ran towards a row of houses to his left, dodging sporadic spell-fire as he did. He crashed through a door of one of the houses, looking for a temporary relief from the death outside.

The sight that greeted him however was worse. A death eater had a young female auror pinned and was ripping her clothes off with a lustful glint in his eye. The woman was only putting up marginal resistance, unable to do much because of her glaring wounds.

Harry felt hot rage course through his veins and he picked the closest thing up—which just luckily happened to be a shovel—and proceeded to bash the man's brains in, with a couple extra whacks for good measure. Needless to say, he would most likely not be getting up again.

The woman looked up at him gratefully and he knelt down beside her. She was an interesting bird; her hair was a stylish spiky pink and her eyes green, not quite the intensity of his own, but close.

"Thank you," she murmured weakly, but then gave a weak chuckle. "They told me not to go because of the wounds I suffered yesterday, but I just couldn't let my comrades have all the fun."

Harry let a sympathetic smile creep onto his face. To have the courage to be cheerful even in the face of death was beyond admirable.

"What happened?" he questioned.

"It was a setup; an ambush. We should've seen it coming, but we didn't. We held our own for a few moments though, fighting back-to-back. Until the reinforcements began arriving and it devolved into the—excuse my language—shitstorm it is now," she answered, stopping every little bit to cough.

"Speaking of which mate, what are you doing here? You're much to young to be in a unit," she said, eyeing him suspiciously.

"What happened to Madam Bones?" A battle was raging outside and he had no time to dawdle.

The woman continued her suspicious inspection of him before finally answering, "I never saw her go down, but I went down pretty quickly myself."

He wanted to find Amelia. To keep her safe. She had taken him into her home when he was at his lowest—which when he really thought about it was only yesterday—and treated him relatively nice.

"I'll send a medic," Harry finally said, turning around to leave, not knowing if there even were such a thing in the wizarding military.

She grabbed his arm before he left and looked into his eyes. "Are you a Black?" she asked finally, after a slightly awkward confrontation.

The dreaded question. Harry decided it was better left unanswered and ran out of the house.

He reentered the battlefield, finding it much the same as when he left. The red robes of the British wizarding military stood out in the night, whilst the black robes of the enemy seemed to mix with the shadows.

Harry raced towards the nearest group of redcoats he could find and quickly regretted it. The battle was ferocious in this particular area, with soldiers dropping like flies on both sides. The spells raged like angry bees and peppered the ground and buildings behind the opposing lines.

Harry sidestepped a dark brown curse and rolled under a dark blue curse and was even forced to jump to avoid a light-sided reducto.

Harry thought he was doing pretty well until he landed face-to-face with a nasty looking bloke with decaying teeth. He was…a little on the large side and unfortunately, it wasn't in the stomach.

The man pulled out his wand and Harry finally realized something slightly important: the ministry had snapped his wand before he went to Azkaban! So that left out the wand-to-wand option. And even before he had been placed in Azkaban, Harry would've only had a _little_ difficulty taking this six foot five, two-hundred and fifty pound man down with just his hands. Now…maybe not.

The man grinned, which looked horrible with his teeth, and flicked his wand, sending him flying through the wall into one of houses. Harry tried to pick himself off the floor, but he seemed to be pinned by some intangible weight.

The man walked menacingly through the newly made hole-in-the-wall smiling maliciously. Harry could honestly say that he was rather terrified.

"EVERBO!" a very feminine voice cried from behind the large man. He was sent sailing through the air, and into the wall on the other side of the room.

Standing where he had once stood, was Susan, still dressed in her jammies as well. She looked very much like an angel: her red hair flowing and those luscious breasts that could be seen very well through her nightgown…

Harry shook his head and stood up. It wouldn't do to get distracted on the battlefield.

Susan was crying and breathing heavily. "Oh, Merlin! I just killed that man!"

"Well, I surely hope so," Harry said, letting his whimsical side shine, "His hair was a mess!"

Suddenly, an insane cackle filled the air, one that was familiar. Harry stepped through the hole-in-the-wall to find the street literally slick with blood and the few surviving hit wizards holding on to a small hill.

Harry watched as the abomination that was his…mother slashed her wand at the group of allied wizards. The balding man who had said that he was to old to be on the battlefield, fell to the ground dead.

Susan gave a loud, horrified gasp. Lestrange whipped around to face them and their eyes locked. She looked bewildered for a minute before her face took an ear-splitting grin.

"Herakles!" she called waving and cackling madly.

"Mother," Harry said challengingly, though not before grimacing at the use of his name.

"You've gotten so big! Unfortunately, our time is short; my lord has commanded me to kill you, but always remember that you'll be my special baby!" She really was bloody insane!

"Goodbye, Herakles," she said pointing her wand at him, "Avada —" Didn't the bad guys always tell out their plans in detail?

A shadow descended between mother and son, quickly pulling up their wand and calmly saying, "Voltus!"

"—Kedavra!"

The two crackling bolts of light—one a sickly green and the other, a beautiful but powerful blue—collided, causing a small magical explosion that showered the ground with pieces of glass from the broken windows.

"Bonesy — you slippery gal! I could've sworn I killed you!" Bellatrix growled playfully. Her emotions really were quite confusing; they always seemed to contradict themselves.

"Diffindo," Amelia said, slashing her wand through the air. Lestrange simply sidestepped, still chattering.

"You always have been slippery though, haven't you, Amelia? I remember very fondly the night that I single-handedly _almost_ wiped out the Bones. But it looks like fate simply wants your family dead; both members stand in front of me, the most powerful witch of my age!"

Harry desperately wished he could do something to help—there was that damned hero-saving trait of his—but he no longer owned a wand and would most likely just get in the way.

His mother shot a dark brown curse—much like the one he had dodged earlier—at Amelia, who countered with her own unknown light spell and the two spells connected. Both Amelia's and Bellatrix's eyes widened comically and would've been hilarious—if not for the seriousness of the situation, of course.

Both women pushed all of their magical strength into their spells and a steadily growing ball of magical energy began to form. Eventually, it became to much and it exploded with a brilliant display of power. The shockwave that formed knocked all in range to the ground.

When Harry next looked up, a death eater was helping his mother to her feet. Lestrange looked bewildered before smirking at all the dead British soldiers.

"Tell the men to retreat. We're done here." And with that, she and the death eaters that were in an decent condition, apparated away.

One of the hit wizards in the area stumbled over, his leg bleeding profusely. "Madam Bones, we've won the battle! Oh thank Merlin!"

Harry looked around at the mangled corpses of British aurors and hit wizards. What had they really won?

* * *

 _ **A/N- I completely had forgotten about the whole snapping wands before you get sent to Azkaban. In fact, I at first wrote the Harry/Susan fight with Harry having a wand!**_

 _ **And for those of you who read my Perseus Black stories, you know just how terrible I am at remembering stuff for my author's notes, so if I forgot something, you might see it next time.**_

 _ **Review!**_


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N- Hey guys. Sorry about the wait, I was waiting to get Word put back on my computer, but that's a long story, so for now, I'll have to do without.**

 **After this chap, there's going to be a fight like every chapter. Hooray! I can't wait!**

 **And I'm very proud of this first part. Like seriously, it sounds like I'm a different person!**

 **Update 2/28/16: Just some minor changes, so no new content, although I did make the speech at the end a bit better.**

* * *

 **Chapter 4- Allies**

 _January 17th, 1996_

St. Mungo's was too crowded. So much so that they had to set up a temporary field hospital at the Auror Office.

It hadn't been a big battle by any means—about six-hundred aurors and hit wizards against approximately the same number of death eaters—but the casualties had been appalling for both sides. Three hundred and fifty were dead on the light side and one hundred and fifty were badly wounded.

The death eater losses had been heavy as well—about one hundred and twenty dead and wounded and over two hundred captured (they were probably stunned)—though not near as bad as the light side.

In other words, it was a Pyrrhic victory, and even that was pushing it. But this was war, and wars are won in small steps right?

Harry couldn't grasp his mind around it. Such death and destruction, so many lives lost, over a piece of dirt.

The experience had been horrible for Harry. He had thought he had seen it all; had seen the worst of it. This proved he hadn't. The smoldering corpses; the smell of burnt flesh; it had made the situation more…real.

And he could not forget the woman—the one with the strange pink hair, whom he had given a promise, one he had failed at. He had completely forgotten about her; left her to die.

That's why he was here. To give a sort of apology, or even to beg for forgiveness. If she would even take it, that is.

Amelia had tracked her down; Nymphadora was her name. Nymphadora Tonks.

Harry followed after his fatigued, exhausted fiancée into one of the many rooms at the Auror Office. Various people ran to and fro and Harry swore that he noticed a few cameras stowed away in concealed pockets of robes. The media was quick.

The room—which was somewhat of an overstatement; it was technically a cubicle—held only three occupants when they entered the room.

The first occupant was a fair-haired man—with the weakest jawline he had ever seen, massive oval glasses that contained two brown eyes which were most likely usually bright—the smile crinkles on his face implied as much—and with a build that told the world that he could easily lift…fifty pounds. Not a very impressive man at all.

The second occupant was his auror acquaintance from earlier this morning. She was laid out on the makeshift bed—an office desk—with only the partial cover of a hospital gown to cover her modesty.

He noticed a tattoo on her shoulder—he noticed the man glance at it disapprovingly—of a bird of prey, maybe an eagle, with an accentuated 1 on it. The surprising part was when the eagle looked him straight in the eye and flapped his wings. He started; who knew that there was such a thing as a magical tattoo?

A melodious laugh—most likely brought on by his startlement—brought his attention to the third occupant of the room, who sat next to the rather unimpressive man. He was almost immediately put on guard, for it was very much like looking into a mirror, albeit a slightly distorted mirror. In place of his elegant violet eyes, there was a soft brown—and light brown as opposed to the deep black of his mother's that he had inherited.

Yet the face remained the same, although a small difference quickly caught Harry's eyes. The woman in front of him simply exuded a kindness that Bellatrix would be hard-pressed to copy. It was very unlikely that this was a death eater trap after all.

Nymphadora's face—which had taken a shocked expression at their entrance—quickly morphed into a warm, playful smile. One that simply drew you in and held you, until you had no choice but to have a high opinion of the castor—even if you had only met them once before.

Harry returned her radiant beam with one of his own; he hoped it didn't look to much like a grimace. He felt something stirring in his stomach when she gazed upon him with those brilliant smile and those shining, brown eyes—not romantically, mind you (not that Harry would know that anyways)—(hadn't she had green eyes before?) and he was quite taken aback by the feeling. He quickly put on an emotionless mask—one perfected in the fires of hell—better known as Azkaban.

"Mum, Dad—this is the one I was telling you about; the one who saved me," Nymphadora said excitedly to the other members in the room, who were now identified as her parents. He could definitely note some similarities to her mother.

The man stood to his feet and made his way over to the newcomers. He became clumsy and very nearly fell, but caught himself at the last moment. Even if he had been trying to be threatening with his act, it didn't help the overprotective dad figure he was trying to display.

He shook Harry's hand. They were soft—almost feminine—and felt like he had never done the slightest amount of labor in his life. Maybe he was an office type of man.

"Thank you," he said in a nasally, unsure voice. "I'm Edward Tonks, but my friends call me Ted." The way he said it made it obvious that he was asking for his name.

Harry almost told him that he was Potter; it was still rather difficult to remember considering he had been told he was Harry Potter since he was in Pre-K. But he was tired of being ashamed of his name—even though he had only had it for some twenty-four hours.

"Herakles Black," Harry replied, shaking the man's outstretched hand.

A gasp was heard from both female occupants of the room—Amelia had elected to stay outside—and Nymphadora even cried out, "I knew it!" whilst pointing a slender finger in his direction.

The woman was eyeing him curiously, but warily. Seemed she had a history with the Blacks.

Ted took several steps back and his hand was twitching as it moved slowly towards his forward left pocket, the outline of the wand clearly visible. At least, he hoped it was a wand.

"Now see here," Ted said stuttering, killing the threatening tone of voice that had been present for only a second, "We don't want any trouble..."

His speech was ended however, when the woman's hand materialized on her husband's shoulder. "Ted, he saved our daughter, remember?"

Next to Ted, she looked like a goddess come to earth. Ted had to have been a Slytherin; how else could such a man manage to snatch such a woman?

"So, Mr. Black, excuse me for my rudeness, but could I trouble you terribly for your father's name?" she asked, turning her warm, but piercing brown gaze to him. Just like a pureblood; asking for a father's name.

Harry entertained the idea of calling his father by his dysphemism, but thought better of it. He didn't need half of the aurors in the building trying to break down the door.

"Tom Riddle," Harry finally responded vigilantly. He wasn't sure how widespread the knowledge was, probably not very large at all, but it was better safe than sorry.

"Riddle?" she murmured to no one in particular, but Harry heard it anyways. He felt compelled to elaborate.

"My mother and father weren't married," Harry explained quickly, feeling his cheeks slightly glow at the insinuation.

"Ah," she said, her confusion only slightly abated, "and your mother is…?" Apparently, she was one of those who wouldn't stop asking questions until she had every drop of information. Harry always had a special place in his heart for inquisitive people.

Better to just get it over with. "Bellatrix Lestrange," he said. As soon as he said it, he grimaced. Something as simple and innocent as just saying her name left a bad taste in his mouth.

At first, she didn't answer. Only gazed at him with something akin to uncertainty and something else. Terror. "My sister," she murmured.

She backed away slowly, eventually falling back into her chair. Nymphadora looked between the two of them with mounting curiosity and a sort of naivety usually reserved for small children.

The reality of what Nymphadora's mother had said crashed into him. "You're my aunt?" Harry questioned, ashamed of his abruptness, but hoping for any sort of family that wasn't insane and out for his blood.

"Yes," she said warily, "apparently, I'm your aunt Andromeda—"

The words were barely out of her mouth when Harry lunged at her, slightly aggressive, but with a good purpose in mind. He pulled her into a crushing hug even as he felt two wands pointed at him from behind. But he didn't care; he was completely caught up in the moment, wanting to be given what he had been denied for so long.

He would never admit it, but when Nagnok had first said that there was a possibility that he might have different parents, he had hoped that he could have a family for once; one that didn't hate his guts for a reason he couldn't control. Even after he had been told what was basically his worst nightmare, he had held on to just a spark of hope that it was still possible.

Meeting his mother on the battlefield had proverbially opened his eyes. She didn't care for him at all; in fact, she was more than willing to kill him on her master's orders. She hated him—once again for something he could not control. It seemed like he was destined to live a lonely, sad life until his parents murdered him; until this little bit of light had flashed into his life. And he was not about to let it go.

He was crying, possibly even balling. Letting out all his emotions at once, like a raging storm tearing through his body, forcing out every drop of emotion he had kept bottled up for years. At some point during the exchange, Andromeda put her arms around him, hugging and shushing him.

Finally, the storm stopped, finally beginning to lose its power. Harry wanted to snuggle against his aunt; he'd never been as much as held as far as he could remember, but this was neither time nor place.

Harry awkwardly stood up and reoccupied his spot by the door. "Thank you," he said, starting to feel sheepish and embarrassed from his childish display.

There was a knock at the door and Amelia put her head through the slightly open door. "It's time to go home, Harry."

Harry wanted to protest; he'd only had five minutes. But protest was not an action he did often; no, he was always quickly punished for such a common conduct.

"Does he live with you then?" his newfound aunt asked, and with a thrill, Harry noticed the slightest ounce of protectiveness from his auntie.

"Yes…he is my…fiancé." She struggled so heavily to announce and sounded so ashamed at their soon-to-be-union that it sucked the happiness that Harry had recently been feeling right out of him. Was he really so deplorable?

Ted's eyes bugged comically out of his head (it was even more pronounced by his thick glasses). "But…you're like thirty!" he exclaimed.

"ITS NOT LIKE I APPROVE OF IT EITHER, FOUR-EYES!" Amelia roared and pulling out her wand, tried to hex him.

Andromeda quickly moved to protect her husband and blocked the offending hex. Both women glared at the other, both of their eyes blazing furiously. The staring match seemed to increase until Amelia finally growled out, "Come along, Harry."

Harry was quick to obey and gave a speedy wave as he teleported out the door. At least, it felt like it with the way he was moving. Amelia exited the room soon after he and grabbing his arm painfully, she apparated back to Bones Manor.

Susan was waiting for them, wand in hand, but relaxed when she saw who it was. "To bed," Amelia snarled causing both teens to rocket towards their rooms.

Sunlight had already broken through Harry's window; that would make it rather hard to sleep. Especially considering his adrenaline was still pumping. But it was best to give it a try; he didn't want Amelia stomping up the stairs. Just like the day before, he was asleep before his head hit the pillow.

* * *

"Now that Mr. Fitzgerald has finally joined us," Dumbledore began, looking disapprovingly at the American delegation's lack of promptness, "we can get down to business."

"Yes, Dumbledore, I am curious to why you called us together," said an impatient Jean Delacour.

"We have a problem in Britain; a dark lord—one worse than Grindelwald—"

"Yes, we know of Tom Riddle," Fitzgerald snapped. "The question is, why hasn't he been taken care of?"

How had he known of Voldemort's identity? None of the other delegates looked surprised either, but that was for another time.

"His ideals match that of many in our country and his followers are well-armed and prepared—"

"And how is this our problem, Dumbledore?" Fitzgerald rudely interrupted. Where did this bigot get off thinking he could just interrupt the most powerful wizard in the world? Americans these days.

"Might I remind the Americans of the debt they owe us for helping the Revolution," Dumbledore replied sternly.

"Might I remind the British that these debts were more than payed against both Napoleon and Grindelwald," Fitzgerald said sneering.

"Nevertheless," Dumbledore continued conceding that point to the Americans, "Great Britain remains to be one of the most powerful wizarding nations in the world; not to mention the amount of trade we produce."

Those words had the desired effect on many in attendance and Dumbledore decided to drive home the point.

"We have come to you in many a time of need," he said, looking pointedly at the Finnish and Germans, "and now I stand before you, asking, nah, begging, for your support. For if we fall, how long before Voldemort extends his reign to your countries?"

"How many troops?" Fitzgerald finally said sighing heavily.

Dumbledore grinned in victory. "25,000."

"25,000!" the female Finnish delegate squealed comically. "That's unreasonable!"

"Or, he's not telling the full truth," Jean Delacour growled menacingly.

"The Americans have a mobile, standing army of over 30,000! And that's without a draft of any kind!" Dumbledore argued. Maybe he overstepped it a bit.

"Fine," he growled before any other could make their discontent known, "10,000."

"Look at this! Can't you see; he only wants power!" Jean Delacour cried out, standing abruptly. "You'll never receive help from France!" He stormed from the room and slammed the door.

After a pause, Fitzgerald finally spoke: "America will give 2,000 men. That's it."

"Finland shall give 150."

"India shall give 800."

It went on and on like this until the total number of forces reached the required 10,000. It was agreed upon that the troops would prepare and be ready for action at the end of the seventh month. Everything was going perfectly to plan.

* * *

Harry placed his fork, knife, and napkin on his half empty plate and mentally prepared himself for the coming battle. Another battle which probably a few tears would be spread.

"What're you doing?" Amelia asked, still eating her meal.

"I'm done."

"No you're not. You need to eat more if you want to get stronger," she said glaring.

"Well then let me cook; it'll be better than this rubbish," he finished with a murmur. Unfortunately, Amelia heard him.

"At least you're getting food!" she snapped viciously.

Once again, he hadn't done anything wrong and Amelia was getting mad at him! If it was any other person, Harry would've apologized profusely, but Amelia was pissing him off. He'd been here a week and he hadn't been shown an ounce of respect from her! Yes, he was a teenager, but even they deserve some sort of respect!

Of course, according to his fiancée, he was homicidal as well as suicidal. Amelia hadn't been thrilled to find him and Susan on the battlefield. She'd ranted about that for days.

"You need to build your strength back up." She did make a valid argument, but it wasn't going to work; this food, if you could even call it that, was complete rubbish.

Her urgings were akin to that of Mrs. Weasley and it did not improve his already sour mood.

He was tired of being stuck inside. The interior of the house was very nice; it simply exuded a well-cherished feeling of home. With its broad staircases and its symmetrical rooms, it was obviously built in the Elizabethan era, or with that period in mind. Getting around the house was slightly difficult for him because of his lack of movement in Azkaban, but he had managed to cover the entirety of the manor within a couple of days.

"Then let me cook! I've been doing it all my life, so I'm pretty good at it!"

"The elves just don't have very much experience is all! Stop being such a spoiled brat, _Black_!"

Instead of continuing the pointless argument, Harry stood up glaring and left the dining hall. Maybe he'd buy his own house—if he had enough money of course. Separated couples weren't that uncommon.

* * *

"I'm sure you've all been wondering what happened the other day that the ministry felt the need to cover up—"

"Yea — that sounds about right," interrupted the abrasive blonde in the front row, who just happened to be her best friend.

The news—though usually misleading—had been spot on in announcing that the ministry was covering up something. She herself had had the misfortune to be at said event.

It had made quite an uproar when a battered and bruised Amelia Bones led her equally bruised niece into the great hall last Tuesday and apologized for not getting Susan back on time. Susan had refused to comment on anything, that is, until now.

"On Tuesday, there was another death eater raid; this time on a muggle village," Susan announced, her usually sweet voice hardened with unrestrained anger.

Many of those in attendance gasped, whilst a few more were cynical. "And how would you know that?" one of the more cynical ones, or more like idiotic, Hermione Granger asked snootily.

"Because I was there, Granger." Susan was growling and she hadn't even meant to. The fact that Harry's friends were among the attendees was enraging to her.

Hermione's eyes widened unintentionally revealing her soul. It wasn't completely dark yet; there was a light at the end of the tunnel, but she would have to escape very soon to free herself from the captivating bounds of evil.

"What happened?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Susan gave a heavy sigh. "It was a bloodbath; the streets were literally slick with blood; it was awful. How me and Harry got out—"

"YOU'RE IN LEAGUE WITH HIM!" Ron shouted out maliciously before walking out the door. His sister, Ginny, followed after him after giving Susan a stern glare. Hermione was slightly more reluctant, but eventually, she left all the same.

Good riddance.

"Anyways, my auntie believes that the reason that the enemy found out about our attack is because of traitors within the ministry ranks—" a few murmurs of nervousness from the crowd and Susan continued, "and that leads us to what I'm here to say."

Susan told the crowd of Harry's master plan—well, it wasn't very long or complicated at all—and the cries of skepticism and confusion filled the stuffy, congested air of the long abandoned classroom.

"Make an army?" Hannah Abbott, Susan's blonde best friend, yelled into the myriad of voices, her's taking precedence momentarily, "that's absurd!"

Susan felt her temper rising. They were all a bunch a cowards; where was their sense of adventure? Of course there weren't very many Gryffindors in the crowd, so she really couldn't blame them for the reluctance on part of the majority.

She moved her wand to her throat and cast an amplifying charm. "QUIET!"

Everyone immediately quieted.

"Thank you. Now look, I understand your reluctance. You're scared," a few protests, "and so am I. You've all heard stories from your parents of the first war; it was absolutely horrid."

Susan continued on ferociously. "It won't be easy, that's for sure. But we're wizards; we can do anything we set our minds to if we just try!"

The few murmurs of agreement spurned her onward.

"I know we're just kids, I won't even lie and say it will be easy. For some of us, we'll be fighting our own family," she said, looking pointedly at Daphne Greengrass and the small group of Slytherins huddled away from the rest of the group in the back corner.

"But the Ministry continues to deny V-Voldemort's return and no one else seems to be doing anything. Our parents refuse to recognize the truth and soon he'll have control over everything; the very reality our parents fought to avoid years ago. But we have the knowledge, the skill, and the resolve to fight the Dark Lord, and win!"

The roar was tumultuous and unanimous and at first, Susan worried if her silencing charms would be enough, but it was soon overpowered by how easily they had just signed up for war. The poor souls had no clue what they were getting into and Susan felt cold feeling coming over her heart as she realized that she would be somewhat responsible for their deaths…

Sirius opened the safe, constantly looking over his shoulder. He'd become a bit more paranoid this week, always certain that the Order was going to find out. It wasn't like it had been anything bad or comprising to the Order's integrity by any means; no, it was mostly finding "beef" on everyone's favorite grandfatherly figure.

He'd also been looking into some of the giant and werewolf clans that Dumbledore was trying to recruit. None of them had a history of siding with the light. Now, maybe he was just getting cynical, but it seemed strange that two of Harry's professors—Remus and Hagrid—that had the most influence on Harry's life were away for so long on these impracticable missions.

It was time to meet Harry. Well…track him down that is. He'd been missing for a week by this point, and while many believed him dead, Sirius could feel in his heart that his godson was still alive. His condition however was another story.

He and Remus probably wouldn't be missed; the Order was in chaos right now. With the saviour missing and Dumbledore at the ICW, the organization had dissolved into pity rivalries over who was leader and the like. That was why Sirius was so nervous about him being caught; they would probably just kill him on the spot.

The last thing he had to do before he left his childhood home—which was of course the beehive for the Order—was located in this safe. Fortunately, it was still there after all these years. It looked to have aged well; of course, it was only a slender piece of wood.

From what he was told, it was made from both holly and oak wood by some crazy bastard in Germany for his aunt Druella. That was the story his mother had told him anyhow. She'd never told him of the wand core, but hopefully the wand would be compatible with Harry. His grandmother was a Black after all.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N- I've finally done Chapter 5. I believed it was the worst chapter for multiple reasons, but hopefully, you'll find this update to be much better!**

 **Disclaimer: Don't own it.**

* * *

 **Chapter 5- Legionnaires**

 _January 25_ _th_ _, 1996_

 _Hedwig flew gracefully through the air, taking the path she had ritually followed ever since she and her master were first united. Her master had been quite troubled lately, so she was bringing him back a dead rat to cheer him up._

 _Strangely, when she flew into the room they shared, he no longer occupied the desolate, bland room. It was painted a tasteless white, a colour associated with purity and goodness. However, she saw through the portrayed innocence of the room, red stains marred the walls: blood spilled from one particularly brutal night._

 _You see, Hedwig was an intelligent bird; a prodigy of her kind. She was well aware of the pain her master endured at the hand of the "man downstairs" as she often liked to call him. Or chirp if you rather._

 _After many hours of waiting—all spent wisely preening her lustrous white feathers—master had still not come back to the room. It was nighttime; he was never this late._

 _Like an overprotective mother, Hedwig flew out into the warm night sky, looking for her wayward child and preparing to give him an earful for being out so late._

 _He was her familiar and vice versa, but she had the added ability of being able to sense his location. He wasn't that far away; only somewhere in London, but it was strange that he didn't at least leave out treats if he knew he was going somewhere. Something wasn't right and Hedwig quickly flew towards London, her glistening white form an oddity against the midnight of her surroundings._

 _After several minutes of graceful flight, Hedwig reached the marvelous and majestic city of London. She followed the "signal" to a phone booth where she had often seen magicals in London. She came through this area often—it was filled with succulent rats thriving in London's filth. This was her destination._

 _Noticing that the signal seemed to be coming from beneath her, Hedwig dived into a sewage grate. The space was cramped and dirty, leaving little room for movement causing her vibrant feathers to be defiled with the foulness of nearly seven million inhabitants._

 _She finally exited the dark, subjacent tunnel and came out in a massive room—one that could possibly be larger than Hogwarts. The ceiling was the only thing in the room—minus a statue or two—that wasn't wood. Even the fireplaces were wood—which was highly dangerous and rather idiotic—she was a bird and even she knew that wood and fire didn't mix._

 _It was strange; master seemed to be further up, so Hedwig, luckily spotting a peculiar but convenient staircase, flew up two flights of stairs. The signal was stronger now; she knew she was close. Obviously, someone had taken master and she was going to make sure they didn't get away from it without a few pecks of well-deserved courtesy._

 _Two men wearing black robes, with a hint of red in them, tried to stop her, but she put on a burst of speed, barreling past them and into a room large enough to rival the great hall of Hogwarts._

 _The room, as previously stated, was large enough to accommodate a few hundred or so people with steadily ascending levels of benches. Every single bench was occupied and many others crowded on the few and far between steps that connected the levels. And even more massed against the cool, dark stone wall, which was crying a river of perspiration._

 _The room was hot with the carbon dioxide outtakes of a thousand breaths. The sweat that was pouring off of the majority of the occupant's faces served to worsen the sweltering temperature._

 _Master was held into a deplorable looking chair, ensnared by the coiling chains. Few had yet to notice her entrance, but of them, Harry was one. His frustrated eyes banished every ounce of despair and was replaced by the radiant glow of happiness and hope._

" _Hedwig!" he cried, with a sort of passion as if they hadn't seen each other in years._

 _His face quickly turned panicky when a portly looking man yelled: "What's a bloody bird doing in here? Kill the beast!"_

 _Naturally, Hedwig could hear the words, but despite her prodigious intelligence, she didn't quite understand the meaning. All she knew was that master's mood had changed drastically by this man's startled remark._

 _Her mother side came out full-fledged and she dived threateningly at master's intimidator. The man cowered before she was even in range, but she managed to snatch his strange green hat. She knew that she probably wasn't going to be able to get close to him again, so she tore apart his hat, as a sort of consolation._

 _The air was soon ablaze with spell-fire as various wizards and witches sent some aggressive spells at her. She easily dodged them—the air was her attribute after all—and she even dived at a few of those in range as a counterattack._

 _Just as she was retreating from one of her vicious counterattacks, she dodged a rather slow moving reductor curse, but that put her directly into the trajectory of a well-timed blasting hex._

* * *

Harry awoke with a shout, feeling Hedwig's feathers sticking to his sweaty skin. Upon further investigation, it was in fact not Hedwig's feathers—she had died nearly seven months ago, but the now soiled covers.

The door creaked as it was closed in a rush, something Harry did not miss. He hated that his terrible experiences were shared with the rest of the household through unceasing night terrors, even if it was just a grumpy witch and a few—rarely seen—house elves.

Despite the dark turn his thoughts had recently taken, nothing could get Harry down today. He'd been invited to lunch with Tonks's in Diagon Alley today. He hadn't remembered there being any restaurants there, but he was excited nonetheless.

He and his new aunt had corresponded multiple times over floo, and he could honestly say that he enjoyed their conversations. Andromeda had a healthy dose of both logic and emotions and was always able to give him the best possible answer.

Mr. Tonks on the other hand was rather dorky, but he was often just fun and had even shown to be quite knowledgeable on a few obscure subjects to Harry, namely, the legal system. Apparently he was a lawyer for both muggles and magicals. If only he could've represented Harry during his trial…

Tonks wasn't fully healed but had been released from the "hospital" and was supposedly resting at home for the next two weeks. She was placed back on the active duty list four days ago by an extremely reluctant Amelia.

How Tonks had managed that against the strong-willed Amelia was beyond Harry; it showed Tonks's gargantuan perseverance.

Tonks was for lack of a better word…interesting. The bubbly and always excitable young woman had in a week replaced both Ron and Hermione. Her natural inquisitive attitude had pried much harder into Harry's life than he would've expected and she now knew more about Harry's childhood than…well anyone.

'Ugh,' Harry grunted as morning sunlight cascaded through the white curtains. Harry hated mornings, no doubt courtesy of his stay at the fantastic vacation resort called Azkaban. Thankfully, he'd manage to avoid dreaming of his time in hell, during the past week, though the dreams that replaced them weren't much better.

After a few necessary stretches, Harry steadily completed his morning ritual and made his way to the kitchen for breakfast.

He struck a deal with the persistent house elves which basically claimed that they could clean up his messes if he was at least allowed to make his own food. An omelet was briskly procured by his nimble and experienced hands and he enjoyed his first meal of the day in solitude. He needn't overeat; the lunch would occur in a couple of hours.

As the elves took away his empty plate with a flash, Harry was left to ponder the frivolous details of his lunch visit: what he'd wear to the lunch, how he'd pay (his trust fund had been emptied into the main Potter vaults by this point), and how he'd even get there in the first place.

"Good morning, Harry," a voice elicited from behind him, causing him to start. He whipped around to find himself face-to-face with Amelia, dressed in average everyday green robes.

Harry had expected her to be at work; being the leader of the law enforcement branch left her little time to actually spend at home, which according to the house elves, was rarely used by Amelia whilst Susan was at school.

Noticing Harry's surprise, she explained, "I thought I'd take the day off. Honestly, I'm surprised they let me, even though there haven't been any attacks, that doesn't mean the enemy won't strike again."

Harry snorted condescendingly. "That tends to happen when your politicians are the enemy." His view on life was largely pessimistic these days.

"Anyways, I was thinking of joining you to lunch. That is alright, right?" she said somewhat shyly, not forgetting the tense end she had brought to Harry's last visit with the Tonks.

Harry was still rather wary around her, for as long as he knew her, she'd been prone to rather furious mood swings. "I doubt they'd mind too terribly," he answered, still watching her cautiously.

Honestly, he had no clue how the Tonks would feel; she had tried to hex them, after all.

"It's at 12, right?" Her tone had taken an ominous undertone.

"…Yea."

"Then why on earth did you eat breakfast this late!" she chided furiously.

"Bugger me!" Harry cried out, pinching the bridge of his nose in over dramatization.

* * *

They landed in the middle of a boisterous crowd and the day immediately took a turn for the worst after Amelia was almost knocked over.

"Budge off, you gallivanting monkeys!"

After rudely insulting everyone within ear range—which was quite a lot as she was very loud—she had pulled a now disgruntled Harry through the crowd to their destination: Engelmann's Eatery.

It was past Gringotts near the back of the alley. Harry was surprised about the amount of people navigated the Alley; surely they must be afraid of death eater attacks! But then Harry received his answer, in the way of armed guards in front of every shop. Aurors.

Amelia noticed his gaze and answered the unasked question, "Better safe than sorry. Things aren't going to get better till they get worse and I'd rather be prepared to face it."

Harry was nodding his head in agreement when he finally realized the grim reality of it. The Wizarding World was at war within itself. Martial Law—the best way to describe this act—had been proclaimed.

The occasional auror would notice Amelia and would snap off a surprisingly muggle salute and return to their duties. Harry decided in that moment that he'd never be an auror; he'd make his own decisions in his career, thank you very much. He put that thought to a stop before it could continue. He sounded very much like his much-despised relatives.

The eatery was a medium-sized building, about the size of Ollivander's. They were quickly greeted by a nervous looking young woman, not too long out of Hogwarts.

"Welcome to Engelmann's. How many?"

Before Amelia could answer, an incredibly rude person slipped between them. "Five please!"

"Hey…" Harry began to protest, but the bright mane of pink hair that accompanied the intruder whipped around, bringing the tauntingly smiling face around towards him.

"Of course it would be you, Nympha…ah, I mean, Tonks."

Even though Harry had managed to rectify his mistake, Tonks still leaned in with her full of malice and hissed, "I don't care if you're my cousin and are marrying my boss, I'll still hex you're bits off."

"Hehe…no need to get drastic…" Harry said, laughing nervously.

Tonks morphed back into her friendly persona, causing Harry to ponder if changing facial features was all that metamorphmagus's could change.

"Wotcher, brass!"

Amelia cocked an annoyed eyebrow at her employee. "How many times have I told you that I find that incredibly disrespectful, Tonks?"

"Well, you're like my…!" She paused as she attempted to determine their new relation. "Cousin now!"

"Nymphadora! How many times have your father and I told you not to run off!"

Tonks turned indignantly towards the doorway. "And how many times do I have to tell you that I'm 23, not 8?!

Andromeda stood at the door, next to a huffing Mr. Tonks. Thankfully, there was no one else in the restaurant, but to the waitress, they must've been making quite a scene. As if proving his theory correct, the waitress cleared her throat.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but I can seat you now."

"Sure, Michaela Winthrop!" Tonks sang. The waitress whipped around and looked inquisitively at Tonks before becoming downcast.

"Nymphadora Tonks. How could I not have noticed?"

Tonks amiably put her arm around her shoulders. "You've forgotten your eternal rival! I must say, that offends me a little. Neither of us ever did snag Charles did we though?"

Michaela blushed furiously and as soon as they were seated, she scampered off to what Harry assumed to be the kitchen.

Amelia sat next to him and the Tonks family spread out on the other side, with Tonks directly in front of him. Amelia still seemed a little irritated about Tonks's comment about being family and Harry made sure to keep a healthy distance.

"So, Harry, how are you today?" asked Andromeda with a sweet smile.

"I'm actually doing quite well. And you?"

Harry exchanged similar pleasantries with Ted, whose eyes flickered occasionally to Amelia, who was unleashing undeterminable amounts of annoyance.

Tonks, being well Tonks, naturally couldn't keep quiet for long and proceeded to interject into the conversation. "So Harry, have you had any wicked adventures this week?" she asked excitedly.

"Not particularly."

"Bloody well then! Next time you go toe-to-toe with some death eater goon, I want to be there!"

Amelia fixed her with a glare that unbelievably silenced the bubbly woman. Before she could rebuke Tonks on her use of "death eaters" in public, their food arrived.

"But how…?"

"At a wizarding restaurant, the menus read your mind. And naturally it's so fast due to house elves that work in the kitchen," Amelia explained in a rare bout of calmness.

"Will that be all?" Michaela asked, obviously afraid of what Tonks might say.

"Yea actually," Tonks said speaking up, "How do I know that you didn't…salivate in my food. I was the first one to snog Charlie after all."

Michaela glared at Tonks, turning Tonks into a cackling mess. She stomped off and Andromeda immediately reprimanded her on the use of foul language with guests.

"Well mum, it's not my fault she's still sore about it! Maybe if she'd jumped on the dragon with me and Charles, she'd be the one gloating about it!"

Harry immediately perked up at the mention of the fiery beast. "You rode a dragon?" he asked incredulously.

"Of course! It was loads of fun! Well rather, it was for about ten meters. That's when it noticed us and…well needless to say, it became a little less fun. Me and Charles managed to fight it to a standstill though!" she said, gleaming with pride.

Amelia gave her a stern look. "Strange, I remember the story differently. I remember getting a call about two Hogwarts students who had let a dragon loose that was wreaking havoc on Hogsmeade."

Tonks suddenly had a sheepish expression. "Ummm…you've probably got this confused with…"

Amelia didn't let her finish, as she immediately finished her story. "And after the dragon was subdued, thankfully with no casualties, I actually interviewed the perpetrators."

"That was you?" Tonks's confidence was completely gone now.

"Yes. In fact, I ordered you to provide restitution for the damages."

"Nymphadora! You told me it was for new school supplies!" Ted said indignantly.

"It was over 1,000 galleons," Amelia provided, obviously enjoying this quite a bit.

"Merlin, Edward! A thousand galleons! Are you mental?" Andromeda shrieked.

Harry sat awkwardly as Ted feebly tried to defend himself against his furious wife, Amelia chuckled hysterically under her breath, and Nymphadora tried to stop her mum from hexing her father.

Eventually, Andromeda stomped out of the restaurant, followed quickly by Tonks and Ted, who both said quick goodbyes to Harry before their departure.

"Ah…that was brilliant," Amelia said with glee. She looked like nothing could get her down…at least, until she noticed that the ones who were supposed to pay had made a hasty exit.

* * *

They left the restaurant, with Amelia still grumbling about having to pay for their five meals, three of which had barely even been touched. Harry, nervous about walking around with a powerful auror who looked ready to hex the next passerby, became determined to make Amelia feel better. And all women like shopping right?

It turned out that Amelia was no exception. As soon as he pitched the idea, Amelia dragged him all over Diagon Alley, causing Harry to become increasingly moody. It only became worse, when she began shopping for Harry, claiming that he needed an updated wardrobe. Harry was inclined to agree with her, as he'd been wearing her brother's old robes from the 60's and resolved to pay her back later.

At one point, Harry noticed a curious object in the corner of Twilfitt and Tattings—Amelia's main choice for shopping. Dragonhide, Amelia called it. Upon further investigation, Harry determined it was indeed the scales of a dragon—he would know; he had faced one head-on before—but was a bit too pricy for his empty wallet and vault.

It was in the middle of this shopping spree, that Harry noticed two familiar figures appear out of Gringotts. Harry grabbed hold of Amelia's arm, who was attempting to walk up to some sort of jewelry vendor. He nonchalantly nodded his head towards the two men.

"Sirius and Remus."

* * *

"Sirius, perhaps angering him wasn't your best way to get information," Remus said, sighing at the impulsiveness of his friend.

"He had no right to withhold that information," Sirius argued back, matter-of-factly.

They sauntered somewhat dejectedly down Diagon Alley, though their despondency was not great enough to stop Sirius's quips. Their trail had gone completely cold.

But Fate had a way of forcing her ways upon the world and Sirius just managed to make out a tuft of fiery red hair in the crowd. He could recognize that hair anywhere, as creepy as that sounded.

"Amelia!" Sirius jumped up and waved his arms furiously, so that she could get a better view of him.

"Bloody hell! They've spotted us already," Amelia explained.

Harry clamped down on Amelia's arm and turned the nearest corner into an alley next to Ollivander's, keeping them low as he did. The crowd was much thinner here, but it offered the wisest escape route.

"How far till you can apparate?" he asked as he swiftly continued through the alley.

"If there's an empty space, I can!"

"Whatever does that mean?!"

Amelia growled with frustration and pulled Harry into a feeder alley. "This should do…"

"Took ya long enough, Love!" Sirius yelled mockingly, slightly panting, leaning casually against the building. Remus stood beside him, with a small smile at Sirius joking, which quickly fell off when he looked at Harry.

* * *

 _James and Lily giggled conspiratorially, as they whispered sweet nothings to each other and Remus suddenly regretted coming along. Sirius had "auror" business to do (he was probably snogging some shapely witch senseless) and he declined the Potter's offer of an evening walk._

 _Pettigrew was out of his apartment, they'd floo called and even went by, and Remus having being begged by James to come along, had finally conceded._

 _Perhaps the night would have been better, if not for the very real threat that lie in the shadows. The war had picked up and the aurors were overstretched._

 _Remus remembered the days at Hogwarts, when he had not a care in the world for death eaters. They were just stories, rumors even, then. Even when the war was brought to their doorstep, when the death eaters raided Hogsmeade, they still seemed little more than a small band of malcontents._

 _Now anyone and everyone could be a death eater. They were well hidden in the shadows, and attacks occurred every night. Probably not the best attitude to have on a walk with some of his mates._

 _Up ahead, there was movement and the tell-tale sign of apparation. Remus breath caught in his throat and he drew his wand as James and Lily quickly mirrored him. A figure dressed in black appeared with a bag._

 _Remus watched warily as the wizard or witch carelessly tossed the bag on the ground and without another word apparated away. The trio of friends shared a brief look of curiosity._

 _James and Lily pressed forward towards the thrown object, leaving Remus to contemplate what they should do. He had almost been sorted into Ravenclaw after all._

" _Prongs, Lils, wait!" Remus called frantically as he noticed his friends had moved forward without consideration of the possible danger._

" _Just checking it out, Moony," James said exasperated, but then gave a smile as if to show that he was grateful for Remus watching out for him._

 _Remus joined them finally and the three of them cautiously peered into the bag. Inside lay a small child, not much older than a day or two, and Remus retracted his head in shock._

" _How could they…?" Lily said what they were all thinking. How could they just throw a poor defenseless baby?_

 _The baby's eyes opened after Lily's exclamation, and Remus was mesmerized by its eyes. Most babies' eyes were blue, but this one's were a dazzling purple…_

* * *

Remus was looking into the same eyes of that night, a deep violet that stood out, even amongst magicals. He knew in that instance.

"Harry?" he asked delicately, but knowingly.

The teenager's face of surprise quickly melted off to be replaced by anxiety and a touch of fear. His expression hardened however and he attempted to glare down Remus. Remus was not to be intimidated and quickly overpowered the glare with a weak smile.

"How did you find out?" Harry asked, his head sulking slightly as he realized he was found out.

Sirius and Amelia had turned to them at this point, Sirius with an open mouth and Amelia with a worried expression that had mirrored Harry's earlier one.

Harry gave a dramatically loud sigh. "I suppose you're going to take me back to Dumbledore? So that I can continue to be a pawn, just like you two?"

The sheer spite held in the words for Dumbledore did not escape Sirius and he internally nodded approvingly. He was, of course, still quite confused about this kid (who looked quite differently than the Harry he remembered), but he trusted Remus' judgement.

"We no longer work for the Order, H-Harry," said Sirius, finding it strange to call this kid Harry, "But perhaps this is not the best place to talk about this."

Harry looked questionably at Amelia, who after a few seconds of thought, agreed. "Perhaps my manor will make do?"

Harry sat in the comfortable plush seat and stared blankly at the far wall. Remus had just finished the story of how he was found. Everyone kept their eyes gaged on him, waiting for his reaction. Perhaps before Azkaban, he would have screamed at them, telling them how wrong they were.

"May I be excused?" he asked, feeling rather uncomfortable about the stares. Amelia looked at him expectedly and nodded her head. However, both Remus and Sirius looked slightly surprised, probably preparing themselves for a Lily-type reaction.

He left the room behind and as soon as he was out of sight, he took a shuddering breath. Not wanting to be caught out in the open, he retreated to the safety of his room. He lay on the bed and stared out the window.

He was only alone for a mere five minutes before Sirius opened the door and, rather rudely if he might add, let himself in.

"Harry," he called softly. Harry ignored him.

Sirius sighed and sat down on the bed next to Harry. "It doesn't matter who your parents are, Harry. You're still the same old Harry Potter."

"But I'm not really, am I?" Harry challenged fiercely. He didn't know why, but he was suddenly in an aggressive mood.

Sirius seemed taken aback by his answer and fumbled with a response. Harry didn't plan on letting him speak.

"I'm Herakles Black; not Harry Potter! My parents are Voldemort and Bellatrix Lestrange; not James and Lily Potter!" Sirius' jaw dropped. "As far as I'm concerned, Harry Potter died in Azkaban. He died as the Dementors ravished his mind, forcing him to relive horrible memories each and every day. He died as hunger racked his emaciated frame and his body struggled to survive. But mostly, he died when he gave up hope that his friends would eventually see the truth and rescue him. When his godfather would embrace him and apologize for not seeing the truth!"

By this point, both occupants of the room were crying tears of pain and when Harry pounced at him, Sirius hadn't the will to fight to him off. He'd die at the hands of his godson, which he likely deserved.

It was rather a surprise then, when Harry wrapped his arms around his godfather's neck and cried for all he was worth.

"I never had a family, Sirius!" Harry bawled. "I thought once I found out I wasn't their child, I might find someone who actually loved and wanted me. But I didn't; the family that I thought I could only find in my dreams, turned to only want to kill me!"

Sirius had managed to regain his cognitive functions and shushed the child before he could say more. "You've got us, pup. I want you. Remus wants you. Hell, I don't think even Amy minds having you around. I'm sorry I let them throw you in there, Harry. I promise, you won't ever have to see that horrid place again!"

After a few moments, Harry detached himself from Sirius and looked embarrassedly at the floor. When had he become such a crybaby? He surely didn't want to make bawling in people's arms a weekly thing.

Sirius decided to change the subject, which Harry gratefully accepted. "How about I give you a present? You could call it a makeup gift, I suppose."

It was going to take a mountain of a present to make this up, but Harry nodded his head all the same. Sirius pulled out a wand from his cloak and Harry immediately went frigid, afraid that perhaps all this had been a ruse to capture him and take him back to Order Headquarters.

Sirius realized his mistake and quickly held it out to Harry, the tip facing towards Sirius.

"It's a holly and oak wood mixture and although I'm not quite sure of the core, my Aunt Druella…er…your grandmother, told me that it was something rather rare."

"Mixture?" Harry asked, suddenly curious.

"Yeah, some crazy bastard in Russia…" Sirius began to explain the wand to Harry, who listened intently.

* * *

Harry waited patiently, though clearly overcome with anxiety, by the fireplace, looking much better in his new clothes than her late brother's baggy ones. She was surprised, but happy, to see a wand in Harry's black and yellow robes. This was good, as she wasn't quite sure how she could train harry if he didn't have a wand.

Sirius and Remus were there as well, the latter calmly reading, whilst the former talked to whoever was listening at the moment.

Her eyes and Harry's met and a silent understanding passed between them. "They want to come too," he said softly, referring to Sirius and Remus.

Amelia only nodded; it wasn't a bad choice. Remus had been the DADA teacher a couple years back and Sirius had a repertoire of effective spells that few could match.

The floo suddenly turned green and two people were forcibly spit out of the flaming menace. Two of the clumsiest people in the entire wizarding world lay panting on her foyer's rug. The Tonks's had arrived.

"Tonks, reporting for duty," Tonks said, jumping to her feet.

Amelia sighed. "This isn't an auror mission, Tonks."

She blushed muttering an apology before turning to a beaming Sirius. Her demeanor quickly changed back into her friendly persona and she enveloped him in a hug.

"Wow! You've grown, Nymphie!" Sirius exclaimed with a barking laugh.

'Oh shit.'

Tonks's demeanor changed once more, her hair and eyes changing with her growing anger. The flaming red hair and burning onyx eyes sent a clear message: run. 'If only she'd utilize this on the battlefield…'

"What'd you just call me?" Tonks growled.

"Uhh…Nymphie…"

Even Harry, whom Amelia had noticed was not the most perceptive lad in the land, pinched the bridge of his nose at Sirius's idiocy.

Tonks pulled out her wand and the abnormal group of four stood awkwardly together and chuckled as Tonks chased a terrified Sirius around the room, peppering him with stinging hexes. After witnessing the destruction of the majority of her beautiful foyer, Amelia was forced to break it apart.

"Susan is expecting us. We should go," Amelia finally said after everyone had settled down.

Harry was obviously nervous, though who wouldn't be? He was returning to the place that had rejected him on false beliefs, condemned him on false information, and ostracized him on false rumors. If they knew he was Harry Potter, would they even accept him?

Harry arrived through the floo last, procrastinating the moment that he'd have to reappear to his old friends, even if he wasn't really Harry Potter.

He came out into a large open room with several statues holding bullseyes. An unbelievable crowd of people stood towards the back of the room, chatting in awed, quiet tones. He never knew there was a room so large at Hogwarts!

Susan skipped up to their entourage with a beaming smile. "Whattaya think?"

"I thought you said that there were only a few people who supported me? What's all this?" Harry asked awed, still amazed at the amount of people.

"I just gave a little speech and a few more people joined," replied a blushing Susan.

"That must've been one hell of a speech, love!" Sirius guffawed. His exclamation was quickly followed by a whack to his head by Amelia who growled, "I can see you haven't changed your ways, Black! Don't you dare flirt with my niece!"

Susan gave a sweet chuckle and skipped back to her position in front of the students. She cast an effective Sonora charm to elevate her voice to a point where it could be heard by all in the room.

"ATTENTION EVERYONE!"

The crowd ended their conversations and turned to Susan, all giving her a respectful gander. She cancelled the charm since she had their attention.

"So for our first meeting, I'd like to introduce my auntie, the leader of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement!"

Amelia walked up beside her niece and gave a courteous nod of her head. The crowd stood silently, looking up in admiration.

"She'll be helping to teach us some of her tricks that got her the job in the first place. And to help her with that, we also have Nympha—"

"The names Tonks!" Tonks hissed from beside a laughing Sirius.

"Uhh…ok then. Auror Tonks will help as well," Susan amended, looking slightly frightened at Tonks's anger.

Tonks, giving everyone a dose of evil eye, advanced to beside Amelia. She almost tripped, causing several snickers, but fingering her wand made all the chuckles quickly die.

The excited chatters picked up in the monstrous multitude, realizing that they were going to be taught by an experienced auror and an auror that could obviously fight. Hell, Harry was excited and he wasn't even in the crowd.

"And returning from Merlin knows where is Professor Lupin who, for the ones that don't know, was our DADA teacher in my third year. Welcome back, Professor!"

The applause was so thunderous that Harry hoped that the room was warded, or they would be having some unwanted visitors very soon. Considering Remus was without a doubt the best DADA teacher in a decade, everyone knew of him.

A startled Remus was pushed to the front by Sirius, who was giving his usual barking laugh. Remus gave a gracious bow and took his place in line, next to a still grumbling Tonks.

Amelia took the spotlight then, her expression immediately changing from friendly to that of a battle-hardened veteran. "This is not for those of the weak of heart. This is basically a crash course of the Auror training program."

Several of the students looked frightened at this, and one small girl even raised her hand, but Amelia continued without pause.

"There is little time for questions and even less for dawdling around. Are you maggots still here!? Get in line and start firing off stupefy!"

* * *

Over the next month and a half, the "legion" only managed to get in six training sessions. Amelia only had time for it on the weekend, but despite this obvious handicap, they grew into a rather capable fighting force. Though they had a disadvantage in just about everything, the one thing they did have was unity and cohesion. Each and every one had grown together. Each and every one would die for the other.

He was learning just as much as they were, even if he usually mastered the spell first. He had to admit, Percutio was by far his favorite offensive spell, able to pierce through objects—or on the battlefield, bodies—with reckless abandon.

They'd learned quite a bit about tactics as well from Amelia, which Harry would admit that he was not the best at, but the Ravenclaws took to it like fish take to water.

Sirius and Tonks had been instrumental in teaching them individual battle tactics. Despite being a force that knew they could count on the other, confusion in battle often separated people and they might have to fight for themselves. Having always had to be a quick thinker, Harry excelled at this, able to come up with effective and innovative strategies that was even starting to force Sirius to the limit.

He had eaten enough that his ribs no longer constantly showed and he suddenly had a tremendous amount of energy that he used mostly towards running. He'd always been an excellent runner due to his Dudley days, and he figured he'd better work at what he was best at.

Nagnok had sent his transcript only a few days after the legion's first meeting. The Potter's were quite rich, having about the same amount as the Black's. As Nagnok had stated in the accompanying letter, the Blacks had gained much like the Malfoys had—through questionable business practices.

There were a few discrepancies on the Potter vault as Nagnok had said, but they were so insignificant that it could barely be traced. Nagnok offered to follow it up, but Harry decided against it. It wasn't really his money to begin with and anyways, it was probably just small transactions that a family member had set up generations ago.

The Potter's vault contained about 15,000,000 galleons with an assorted amount of Knuts and sickles that reached another 10,000. The Black's vault was just as big, containing nearly 16,000,000 galleons, Knuts, and sickles put together. Amelia nearly fainted when she saw the amount.

He had literally nothing to spend such a massive amount of money on, though Sirius suggested a few…unsanitary methods; Harry began researching for some type of protection for the legion. Dragonhide armour was the first entry in the highly controversial, but helpful _Magical Armours and How to Steal Them (Because there's no way you can afford them)_.

Harry put his trust in Ted Tonks, who being a lawyer, should have a way with words. Uncle Ted walked out of Twilfitt and Tattings with 619 orders of dragonhide robes for the rather insane price of 757,830 galleons.

They could stop most spells and were completely resistant to fire. Blunt objects would find it quite difficult to break through as well. Despite being almost completely impervious and rather light, they did have a couple of disadvantages. Upon being hit twice in the same spot, the armour would likely be penetrated. If a particularly destructive charm hit it, it most likely wouldn't provide much protection. All-in-all, however, it was loads better than the average robes the schoolchildren wore and would give another advantage as the death eaters at best wore only battle robes.

For now, it seemed as though they had time and they continued to train diligently. Death eater raids had been few and far between and the ministry was settling down into a false sense of security. The few times that the aurors had managed to catch a death eater raid had ended with only a couple of casualties on either side.

It was obvious Voldemort was recruiting. The question was: how long did they have? Unfortunately, it was about to be answered.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N- Honestly, I think this is pretty good; I'm proud of myself. Ummm…yea, as you all know I suck at speeches and there's one further down…just close your eyes and hopefully you'll miss it.**

 **Without further ado…**

* * *

 **Chapter 6- Dogfight**

 _March 18_ _th_ _, 1996_

"Harry! Wake up!"

Harry looked up from his reflection in the beautiful, crystal-clear water of the pond in front of him, from his position on the rock. To his surprise, there was not a face to match the frantic voice.

He wanted to ignore it, but his inner hero was battling its way through his conscience, until finally, he forced himself to look for the owner of the call. Unfortunately, nowhere on the wide-open plains of slightly swaying blades of grass was there another person.

Harry frowned and the world started to shake violently. He fell over, and when he next opened his eyes, he was no longer in a sea of grass. He was in his bedroom, with a wide-eyed Amelia standing above him.

"Uhh…" he said a bit unnerved by her close proximity. He was always quickly aware of his surroundings when he woke up.

"A platoon of aurors engaged a few death eaters on one of their raids about an hour ago. As usual, the ministry wasn't expecting much, so they didn't call me in. The aurors barely escaped when the death eaters reinforced. A few hundred death eaters are now headed towards London on brooms!" she said in one massive breath.

Harry was already up and moving. "Have you sent—?"

"Susan's already gathered all those who can suitably fly and are already awaiting orders," she interrupted with her reply.

"And how many is that?"

"150 or so."

Harry was surprised by that number; he hadn't thought many people could fly since only a handful from each house even tried out for the team. Of course, considering that it was a highly popular wizarding pastime, it would make sense if it was more highly practiced, but…

The armor was surprisingly comfortable and almost skin-tight—except for in certain areas as that would be _very_ uncomfortable for the guys; however, it would be perfect for flying.

"Do we even have enough brooms?" Harry questioned, having nearly forgotten that vital piece of information.

Amelia blushed and said: "I figured that the Bones could make a contribution for the cause as well…"

Harry only nodded; they could discuss this later. He diligently made his way to the closest floo—located in Amelia's room. He was just about to throw in a pinch of powder, when he felt Amelia grab his arm.

"Be careful," she said, her eyes shining with admiration. Only now did he notice that she was not in her own armor.

"Sorry, Harry," she said, noticing his questioning gaze, "I've got cleanup duty. Ministry's orders."

Harry gave an exasperated sigh when he realized that in his first battle, he would be the only commander. It didn't make him feel better about this at all; it only cooked the bubbling nervousness in his stomach.

"Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!"

He managed to gain some of his balance back upon impact, but it didn't help much; he still rolled a couple of feet. There were a few giggles from the gathered students, probably just from the nervousness that permeated the room.

He'd apparently been the last to get the call; even the Tonks's were present. Every single person was clothed the same, black robes with small red scales intertwined into the fabric. The most noticeable feature, however, were there unique platinum masks. He wasn't sure how useful they'd be protection-wise, but if anything, they looked rather intimidating.

"I assume you've all been briefed?" Harry questioned.

"Not really; Auntie just told us to bring our brooms," Susan answered, her voice holding a hint of hysteria.

"Basically," Harry began as everyone turned their attentions to him, "Death eaters on brooms heading for London. The last thing they'll expect is a group of kids ambushing them."

The legionnaires were looking a bit more confident now, but not much. As Amelia had once said: "Speeches help everything."

With the gentle flick of his wand, a podium appeared in front of the crowd of nervous legionnaires. He wasn't going to sugarcoat it; they deserved more than that.

"So it seems we've got to fight a bit earlier than expected. Our enemy is ready and they're going in for what they think will be a crippling attack. Our ministry is in disorder and in ill condition to fight back. That's why it's our turn. You've all done so well in your training; you know how to fight. You've got amazing squad commanders who know what they're doing. It's time to show these death munchers what we're made of! Let's kick some arse!"

The speech was horrible, barely worthy of the impending engagement, but the legionnaires cheered all the same, somewhat ready for combat.

"Alright, we're flooing to one of the Black apartments in Norfolk. Mind your wandering hands as I'm sure there are some dark artifacts there."

"Yes sir!" cried his battalion in confidence. Harry gave an uncharacteristic smirk. Volde—dad wouldn't know what hit him.

* * *

Amelia arrived at headquarters, sulking about missing the action. She knew that Harry would be alright by himself, but she'd definitely feel more comfortable by his side. She idly wondered when she had begun to care so deeply for him.

She didn't love him—not by any means—but it was difficult not to like him. He was terribly shy and passive, and despite his pessimistic view, he always made people feel better when they were around him; a sense of hope perhaps?

Those vibrant purple eyes still brought shivers to her, but no longer were they always bad. While the occasional night terror did occur, they were mostly about those shining eyes getting steadily closer to her…

"Madam Bones!"

She looked up, finding the pre-called detachment of aurors staring at her. She blushed as she realized she must've been out of it for quite a while.

"Eh…sorry. It's quite late…" she apologized lamely.

Anna, who stood proudly to her left, giggled and said, "You weren't thinking of a man perhaps, Madam Bones?"

Several of the aurors snickered and a few teasing whistles were called out. Amelia was able to contain her flushing this time and gave her grinning secretary a mock glare. "Whether or not I was makes no difference, speaking of personal relations is highly inappropriate, especially with our orders."

Anna, ignoring her superior's slight annoyance, continued, "Was it Sirius Black? He's looking amazing; even after his stint in Azkaban!"

To Amelia's greater irritation, many of the present female aurors acquired a dreamy look in their eyes when Anna talked of Sirius. She knew, correction, she was certain she was over Sirius.

Still she was having trouble controlling her emotions when she growled out, "Let's get this over with." She apparated away, leaving behind a confused batch of aurors who quickly followed.

Anna smirked; her job was a bit too easy. She apparated away as well, however, her destination was not to the recently ravaged battlefield, but to another place entirely.

"Mi lord," she said, nearly boiling over with anticipation, but still trying to remain respectful to her superior.

Her master smiled, a wave of his eccentric but seducing power washed over her. She shivered; it was just as good as when she first joined his forces all those years ago.

"News, Anna?" he asked from upon his skull throne, giving no argument as to who the subordinate was.

"Yes, mi lord, the aurors are headed into the trap."

"Perfect. You've done excellent this evening, love," he said silkily and held out his hand, allowing her the unbelievable honor of touching him.

Anna nearly cried with happiness and was forced to control her shaking hand as she touched him. Very few of the inner circle—much less the average death eater—was allowed to even come near him. This was the highest honor.

"Return to Madam Bones; I wouldn't want them becoming suspicious of my best spy, would I? The attack shall commence in a few minutes, try not to be killed."

Anna did cry when she heard of her lord's obvious care for her. Why did she deserve the honor? When did she become so special?

* * *

They moved forward in several v-shaped units, Harry at the lead. The weather was abysmal, with the clouds doing everything in their power to stop their advance. The rain and lightning were numerous despite the vast sky and the legionnaires were forced to dodge many times.

This would not be an easy battle at all, with horrible weather, no reinforcements, and the small matter that they were flying at speeds reaching over 100 mph. Only the worst commander in history could possibly get their soldiers into such a disadvantage.

Up ahead, Harry could barely make out some silhouettes. After closer contemplation, he realized that it was not a flock of birds, but it was too late to have any kind of reaction.

Harry watched as the front of his broom made contact with the foremost death eater's head, quickly and efficiently snapping it. The enemy soldier silently fell off his broom, sailing towards the waiting ground below. That ought to be quite a mess.

The death eaters immediately came to a halt; it must've been a scouting party because there were only a dozen or so. The legion, who had stopped once they had witnessed the first casualty of the battle, stared at their equally bewildered enemy.

The fragile piece of olive branch that suppressed the two armies was quickly crushed when enemy reinforcements arrived—in the hundreds. Harry was the first one out of the reverie and quickly drew his unloyal, but capable hybrid wand. The nearest death eater was soon falling after his comrade—courtesy of a nicely placed diffindo by Harry.

Much too soon, the killing began once again, with a heavily outnumbered group of children facing a well-armed and commanded fighting force.

* * *

"Madam Bones," called Kingsley from his position on top of the partially destroyed building.

Amelia sighed as she looked away from the charred corpse of a woman no older than herself. Her children lay behind her—she'd obviously died protecting her defenseless youth against what must've been an elusive and eccentric foe—in equally mutilated conditions. Whoever did this didn't even deserve the deepest pits of hell, and she'd make sure that they'd have a session before she gave them such a respite.

"What is it Kingsley?" she asked, pondering why she had accepted such a position when they'd offered her current occupation. Must've been the prestige.

"I think I see a few…"

"Madam Bones!" a voice, reinforced with the Sonorous charm, yelled into the chilling night air. "I'd suggest you give up, your forces are surrounded."

The voice seemed familiar…"Bartemius Crouch Jr," she challenged, more as a statement of recognition than anything else.

His insane cackles became clearer as he stepped out from one of the numerous shadows. It had been many years since she had seen his face, and never had it looked so haunted, and certainly not so cheerful. He exuded the same diseased, dark filth that his master claimed to be "power."

His straw colored hair fell around his thin scarred face—scars that Amelia neither remembered or had not cared to—all the way to his firm, pale jawline. His eyes were the most nostalgic part of him; they were no longer the kind, brown eyes he used to sport; now they were a blood red, yearning for the bloodshed that was sure to follow this interaction.

Other death eaters soon melted from the shadows, immediately putting her aurors on guard. As fate would have it, they were once again outnumbered, however, this time; they had very little hope for reinforcements.

"Might I have this dance, Amelia?" asked Barty, pulling out his dragon heartstring wand.

"Polite even when facing death, eh, Barty?" Amelia taunted with a confidence that she didn't have. His magical aura was so powerful that it was causing her to nervously shake.

Barty smirked as if he knew her predicament. "Avada Kedavra!" he shouted, starting off the second engagement of what was sure to be a very bloody night.

* * *

"Reducto!" Harry shouted as he performed a barrel roll to maneuver out of an oncoming enemy curse whilst firing off his own.

His opponent managed to dodge Harry's pseudo-lethal curse, but he had no time to implement a feint to escape his ally's oncoming curse. It hit his broom, swiftly changing it into a miniature version which had neither the strength nor the capacity to support an entire human. He soared towards the ground, his arms flailing wildly.

Harry didn't have time to feel even a bit of guilt as he barely managed to escape the fiery clutches of his adversary's unwise and uncontrolled fiendfyre. The fiercely burning fire burned out almost immediately, but the fact that he or she could even execute such a complicated spell was not lost on Harry.

All around him, the confused aerial battle raged, the legion having attained a temporary advantage with the enemy reinforcing in piecemeal units. That didn't subtract from the fierceness with which their enemy fought.

Harry tried to outmaneuver his opponent but found that his persistent engager was just as good or better flyer than he. Unable to assault his enemy face-to-face and unable to outsmart them with fancy flying techniques, Harry was forced to blindly shoot spells over his shoulder.

"Avis Oppugno!" Harry shouted, shooting aggressive, sharp-beaked birds at his aggressor.

The death eater cast a simple shield charm, which more than protected against the, admittedly, schoolgirl curse. "Avada Kedavra!"

This person, as previously mentioned, was highly experienced and was able to control the death spell after it had been released. Harry had never faced such a thing before, and he was very nearly killed, except for the quick intervention of one of his allies; he assumed it was Tonks.

She countered with an Expelliarmus that halted the advance of the killing curse long enough for Harry to escape its clutches. The death eater quickly retaliated with a flurry of dark spells at Tonks, who had moved on to another target after an understood "you're welcome" nod.

Now it was Harry's turn to play the hero and warded off the oncoming spells with several blasting hexes. It caused a rather strong explosion and Harry managed to take advantage of the small lull by turning towards the death eater.

Out of the smoke came his opponent with the bottommost part of his mask missing. Harry immediately recognized him as one of Voldemort's inner circle, but he couldn't place a name.

"You little shit," he growled, pulling off his smoking mask. "I'll kill you!"

He promptly shot forward, his wand already glowing with an impending curse. Harry reacted in a way that seemed plausible at the time: "Arresto Momentum!" As was the plan, his enemy came to an abrupt stop, but that didn't stop the oncoming spell, which hit Harry on the left shoulder.

Harry hissed in pain, nearly toppling of his broom. He managed to stay on using only his balance and raised his wand with his still functioning right arm towards his unsuspecting enemy, who had turned his gaze elsewhere looking for a new adversary. Harry wasn't going to give him the chance.

"Confringo!" the purplish light of the blasting hex struck the death eater right in the chest. Death eater robes must've had some sort of protection to them, as he sat back up on his broom, a smoking hole on his chest, but still very much alive.

His eyes were glazed over with unbridled rage and he smirked chillingly—not quite Voldemort's—but terrifying all the same. "So little baby wants to play?" he asked mockingly. "I'll give you something to play with!"

He raised his arms and his body became wreathed with smoke and he jumped—seemingly foolish at the time—off of his stationary broom. The death eater charged at him, leaving a trail of smoke behind.

This time, Harry literally had no time to react and felt the breath knocked out of him when the smoking object made contact with his head, chipping off part of his mask. By the grace of providence, Harry managed to keep hold of his broom so that he didn't fall to his demise.

Harry had just managed to right his broom, when he was slammed into from the back. He managed to stay on a right his broom once more, only to be clobbered from the front, straight in the chest. It hurt. A lot.

Harry found his wand still clenched stubbornly on his right hand. He had just enough time to fire off a spell.

"Depulso!"

The death eater's strange smoky armament collided with his swiftly cast banishing charm. He had imprudently used the first spell that came to mind; this just proved he was an idiot. Fortunately, the spell did its job and more, striking the enemy head-on and destroying his cloak of smoke.

Without his cloak or his broom, he fell to the depths below. Harry had only been able to catch a glimpse of his adversary's widening eyes as he realized he'd been beaten by a mere boy.

* * *

"Reducto!" Amelia fired off her favorite spell, whilst rolling out of the way of a deadly disemboweling curse.

Crouch simply sidestepped, but it looked as if he didn't even have to try; he was extremely fast. He responded with an unknown spell—one Amelia had never seen before.

The ground broke into pieces and attempted to trap her in its rough grasp. She fired several reductos into the ground, but the earth quickly reformed every time. Finally, she wised up that she could no longer continue this tactic of fighting.

She apparated away—just a short distance—to cover behind a still moderately intact building. She could hear Crouch's terrifying cackles and she shivered.

"Running away already, Amy?"

She wouldn't lie; at this moment, a few miles of separation wouldn't hurt. But hopefully with a bit of hit-and-run, she would gain an advantage.

"REDUCTO!"

Suddenly, she was no longer behind cover and a gentle breeze passed against her red hair. Her eyes widened and she rapidly did the recognizable spin of apparation. She arrived at her anticipated destination with her wand already aimed at her target.

"Expelliarmus!" she shouted, certain that this fight was nearing completion.

The speed with which he whipped around proved that she was not always correct. "Avada Kedavra!"

The two spells collided and as expected, bounced off of each other. To Amelia's satisfaction, her disarming charm struck an unsuspecting death eater in the back.

Already, too many of her precious aurors lay dead, and many others would probably be scarred for life because of those horrible, vile curses the enemy was well-known for utilizing. It looked like she'd be dead too, if she didn't end her personal prolonged battle quickly.

She apparated away again, once more hoping to surprise Crouch. This time, she reappeared behind him taking a knee and quickly reaffirming her aim: "Confringo!"

The spell moved forward agonizingly for Amelia—as she was sure that with the speed her enemy had recently shown, he would have little trouble in halting her attack.

Sure enough, with the barely noticeable flick of his wand, Crouch sent the spell over his shoulder. With another casual flick, Amelia was forcefully thrown through the air, landing painfully on her back.

"You actually gave me more of a fight than I was expecting…'tis a shame for you to go out so easily," Crouch said, actually seeming to be depressed over the end of their fight. "And with such strong prospects to look forward to; a younger man, amazing career opportunities…"

The agonizing speech—stereotypical to all villains—was cut abruptly by the pained, violent gasp of her overpowered adversary and a sudden hole appearing on the right side of his chest. Crouch gave a startled glance downwards, and promptly fell over, his blood spurting slightly over her.

Behind him stood a characteristically smiling Sirius, his wand aimed where certain death had stood before her only a moment ago. It wasn't difficult to connect the dots and Amelia, embarrassed, mumbled a small: "Thank you."

Several death eaters, having noticed the death of their commander, moved hungrily towards what they thought would be an easy meal. They had no clue just how powerful their opponents still were.

Amelia and Sirius took up a back-to-back position well-known amongst the auror ranks.

"Just like old times, eh, Amy?" Sirius said, ever so silkily.

"Close your bloody gob and kill, idiot!" Amelia yelled, resisting the urge the hex Sirius at that moment. Luckily, she had some victims to take her anger out on.

* * *

Harry jumped as his broom was disjoined into two pieces by three small, purplish sound waves, dodging the surely nasty spell, although, at the likely cost of his life. It seemed though, that luck was on Harry's side this day—as it often was—and Harry landed perfectly onto the front of an unlucky death eater's broom.

The force threw the pureblood idealist off balance and he was sent soaring down, following the trajectory that many of his like-minded brethren had followed.

Harry, in a show of stellar broom control, managed to successfully saddle the out of control broom and bring it back under control, and just in time as well, as that death eater was back behind him once more.

Harry quickly found out that his stolen broom was complete rubbish. Its previous owner must've been a true survivor if he had stayed alive this long!

Harry put on a burst of speed, in an attempt to outmaneuver the strangely familiar death eater, but as like before, he was horribly under practiced and even if otherwise, Harry doubted he could outdo his slippery adversary.

The death eater, using overwhelming speeds, took a position parallel to Harry's, tauntingly raising his wand. All the while, they were passing other battles just as violent as Harry's previous one and dodging hostile spell-fire from unengaged enemies.

Harry raised his own wand, in preparation to receive the attack. The enemy did not disappoint.

"Sectumsempra!" he said—the voice was undisputedly masculine—executing a slash much like a common cutting curse.

The unfamiliar curse from the familiar voice, nearly threw off Harry's concentration—he'd always been rubbish at paying attention—but at the last moment, Harry responded: "Lacero!" making his own slashing movement with his wand.

The blood-red arc of Harry's cutting curse collided with the bright white arc of the death eater's. The cutting curse managed to put up some meagre resistance, but in the end, it lost its battle of power. Fortunately for Harry, he was going fast enough that he escaped the wrath of the strange spell.

The death eater broke off the engagement, probably going to look for some easier prey. Harry considered following him, but as usual, he managed to get himself into the fiercest action.

He felt it before he heard it. A massive wave of magic exploded from some poor bloke and the pained yell of "Fiendfyre!" was called out. Almost immediately after the fire had escaped the death eater's wand, it began to take form—that of a dragon.

The idiot who'd foolishly cast a spell that both Dumbledore and Voldemort had trouble with received the luxury of immediately passing out. Whoever they were, the magical exhaustion would keep them out for days.

Unfortunately for all those in the vicinity, be them ally or enemy, they didn't have the leisure of a nap, as the dragon wouldn't be choosing sides. A huge breath of fire escaped its mouth, and more than Harry could bear to see were burnt alive.

Harry, enraged, charged the dragon with a spell already in mind. "Aguamenti Maxima!"

Amelia and Tonks had taught the various spell variations to the legionnaires during their training. He'd caught on rather quickly and though he'd never used it in conjunction with the water-making charm; he had shown promise in life-or-death situations. This seemed like an appropriate moment.

The dragon looked right into his eyes (was it alive?) and opened its fiery maw, unleashing a giant gasp of flames. As had become common today, Harry's spell was defeated in its grapple for potency and Harry had to pull up quickly on his terrible borrowed broom to escape a crispy departure.

Lightning was crackling overhead and it gave Harry an idea. Could it be so simple?

"Levitas Telum!" he shouted, pointing his wand straight at the dragon's literal burning gaze.

He'd never shot off a spell so powerfully before and the results were clearly visible. In a flash, a lightning bolt sliced through the dragon and it broke into small embers.

"Retreat!"

The death eater commander decided that it was not smart to be fighting an enemy that could so easily take out a fully-formed fiendfyre. The enemy, tired and having been at a constant disadvantage, gave no word of dissent as the pulled back in their fractured, piecemealed units.

The legion gave no cheer.

* * *

"That's the last of them," Kingsley called from his vantage point on the roof.

Amelia gave a sigh of relief. They'd won this one and Crouch, who was sure to become a very powerful enemy, lay dead, with a good bit of his troops as well.

However, there was no denying it anymore; there was a spy within the ranks. She just hoped that she could catch them before the war spun out of control. Then again, hadn't it already? They'd stooped to letting teenagers fight for them. What was the world coming to?

* * *

 **A/N- Like it? Hate it? Review so I know! Horrible ending though, I'll admit.**

 **I feel like I'm constantly forgetting something for my author's notes...Oh well.**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N- Yo! You guys probably thought I'd fallen into a deep dark hole. I've honestly got no excuse, other than just not feeling like writing. But just know that I'll never let any of my stories go abandoned, even if I have to keep writing them till I'm seventy! I always finish what I start!**

 **Moving on, another reason this chapter took so long is that I had to reanalyze the entire story. It was moving in a direction I didn't want it to, and I was leaving to many things unexplained. For example, anybody wonder why all of a sudden Harry becomes (excuse my language) bad-ass all of a sudden? Somewhat answered. What happened during training? That will be answered next chapter. So yes, next chapter will be basically a filler chapter. I'll try to keep it as interesting as possible, but I can't really promise anything.**

 **Last but certainly not least: updates. Very soon, I'll be getting a job, so obviously that'll cut down on my writing time. As always, I'll update ASAP and hopefully you won't ever have a break as long as this one.**

 **Alright, that about sums it up! Enjoy!**

 **Update Feb. 28, 2016 – Changed the date due to it being the same day as Chapter 6. Also changed last few paragraphs because it was stupid.**

 **I don't own Harry Potter.**

* * *

 **Chapter 7- Bloodbath**

 _March 21_ _st_ _, 1996_

" _Stupefy!"_

 _The red beam of light sailed through the air knocking Harry backwards against the hard, stone wall with a groan._

" _Ugh…Excellent job, Colin," he praised with a slight chuckle. "I think you've got this spell down."_

" _Not quite," the slightly disappointed tone of their "teacher" crushed the smile on Colin's face. "Do it again, and this time, make sure that you actually manage to knock out your opponent."_

 _Harry attempted to give her a hard look for her bluntness, but the glare she returned overpowered his own. This was Amelia the drill instructor, not Amelia the somewhat nice woman._

 _A depressed Colin raised his wand up once more and prepared to re-fire the simple stunning spell…_

Harry looked down painfully at the peacefully sleeping body that had fallen beside him. He had seen the flash of green light from his peripherals, but he had been too late to make any kind of evasive maneuver; he had been sure that he was done for.

But Colin had thrown himself between the bolt of green light and his incompetent leader, saving Harry's life at the cost of his own. Poor Colin; he was still so innocent, so full of life. That was gone now, taken away by some merciless death eater.

Harry spun around, unbridled with rage, preparing to strike down the cold death eater. He was beaten to it by little Dennis, Colin's energetic brother, who charged the grimacing enemy with a growl.

Harry went to knee and began picking off various attackers, but he continued to watch tiny Dennis take on the death eater brute simultaneously.

Dennis impressively tackled the man into the muddy ground, rolling around in it for a moment. The man, easily six foot five and over two hundred pounds of muscle threw the vastly smaller boy off of him with ease, before rising quickly, but still menacingly to his feet.

"Bombarda!"

Dennis managed to escape the small ball of explosion by rolling away, his back taking most of the definite amount of damage.

Dennis seemed unfazed by what must've been a healthy dose of pain all along his back, and he rolled away, catching his adversary by surprise with a quick and efficient cutting curse along the chest.

The large, muscled man staggered backwards, his expression becoming one of apprehension. It quickly morphed into one of rage. "Why you little—" he snarled, tackling Dennis to the ground, knocking his wand away.

The death eater decided that it would be more entertaining to use the muggle method and he began pummeling defenseless Dennis with his fists. Harry moved to help, but found his direction blocked by a snarling death eater.

With some quick, fancy wand waving, Harry easily vanquished his enemy and turned to continue his quest, but found it nearing completion by itself. Dennis' lithe fingers had retrieved his wand and fired a point blank Everbo straight at his aggressor's face.

Harry didn't need to check to make sure he was dead; the sickening crunch reverberated throughout the small street. Harry rushed over to the fallen second-year and gazed upon his overexcited admirer's little brother.

Dennis was a mess. Probably every bone in his face was cracked, if not broken completely. Blood gushed out of every available opening above his neck.

"Harry," he called smiling weakly. Harry went to knee beside his fallen comrade, holding back his emotions.

"Harry Potter," he continued, eliciting a surprised and wary glance from Harry. "I always knew…"

Harry barely managed to hold back a sob at the early passing of Dennis. He'd died not from the beating to his face, but from the shrapnel produced by the reducto. He'd died like a hero, avenging his brother's tragic death.

The first generation of Creevey wizards was gone. He regretted never giving Colin a chance; he'd never been a fan of fanboys. Colin had done loads of growing up since he'd joined the legion and though he had less than average magical reserves, he had proven to have powerful spells.

Colin had set his sights on becoming an auror when he graduated Hogwarts and Tonks had often commented on how his vigor definitely matched an auror's description.

Dennis's prospects were looking just as good; he was a bit more laid-back and down to earth than Colin, but he could throw a spell just the same, often able to go toe-to-toe with his older brother. He'd wanted a much simpler career: the trade of a potion's master.

Harry would never forget the Creevey brothers and he'd make sure the world didn't either.

A hand clamped down on his shoulder and he looked up at the flowing red hair that curved around the mask. It was Susan. "Harry! We can't stand here; we've got to move!"

Only now did Harry notice the increasing spellfire. The alternating flashes of red, green, and a myriad of other colours reminded him strongly of the Christmas he'd spent at Hogwarts first year.

Harry stood up slowly, still mourning the loss of two people; good people. "Both Chang's and Bell's platoons were hit hard in the first assault; they've retreated into a position on Church Lane. Cadwallader's platoon is moving up for support, but I don't think they'll be enough, the enemy is really thick in that area."

"Then that's where I'll be," Harry said with finality.

"I'm going with you," stated Susan, ready for his argument.

"No. You should be at Field Headquarters. Just send me Tonks and a couple of companies and I'll be fine." Susan looked ready to argue, so Harry was forced to shut her down. "That's an order."

Susan looked hurt, but complied all the same. Harry ran off in direction of the heaviest fire, sighing. He had an actual reason for keeping Susan back; she was fantastic at troop movement. Of course he didn't want her to die for personal reasons as well; she was basically his niece after all.

After all that had happened, after everything he'd lost, it was natural that he be a bit overprotective; it was human nature. Or at least he'd like to believe that. Maybe it was just him trying to feel for something, trying to regain his humanity.

He had killed, never mind that generic drivel that Amelia constantly drilled him with; he had murdered. No, he may not have liked it at the time, but he had felt it, deep within the recesses of his mind, that sick, perverse love for the gruesome action. But now, with every kill, the voice became louder and more demanding for the soul-damning action, and he'd almost lost control.

That wasn't the only change he'd felt. He was more aggressive, more commanding, and, more simply put, moody. Amelia had put it off on teenage hormones; he wasn't so sure. It was if he was losing himself in an internal battle, and this war was only increasing it.

Where had the other side of him gone? He may not have enjoyed being an almost constant sceptic and acting like a beaten down animal, but at least the sensations were real. It was like he was on auto-pilot; not in complete control of his actions or emotions. To be honest, it was terrifying.

"Crucio!"

The attack came from the surrounding darkness with little warning other than the streak of red light that followed the exclamation. Harry, although more than a little surprised, quickly executed an efficient genuflection, dodging the offensive spell whilst giving him a more adept firing position.

It was a death eater straggler, Harry's assumption proven when her obese body emerged from a doorway. They stared at each other, the woman's nervousness clearly shown by a raucous gulp. She didn't seem to be much of a threat; nevertheless, Harry mentally prepared himself for a long battle.

Death eaters were nothing if not cunning. Even if they hadn't been in Slytherin or any of the other magical tutoring companies that resided in Europe, they'd been trained to be the ultimate Slytherin.

A powerful counterattack was necessary if Harry wanted to avoid any chance of a prolonged fight.

"Everte Statum!"

She gave a startled squeak and hastily moved to defend herself, "Protego!"

The orange light crashed against the incomplete shield, resulting in the woman being pushed back. Harry cursed himself; he was attempting to win with a two spell attack. He took a more cautious stance, simply changing to the dueling stance Snape had portrayed against Lockhart many a year ago, and prepared for a counterattack. As often occurs in fighting, a slip-up as simple as this could turn the tide.

Although, unlike many wizards and witches, Harry religiously exercised the controversial motto, "Offense is the best Defense."

"Relashio!"

The death eater made another attempt to defend herself, and the fiery sparks collided with her shield charm. Her shield remained erect.

Harry continued the onslaught sending an Expulso curse at his victim, and consequently, the shield charm exploded into a magnificent magical dust. She, he had yet to confirm the death eater's gender, though their voice and body resembled a females, looked at him with a mixture of fear and anxiety. Those two emotions had a history of combining with devastating results.

Harry quickly fired a disarming charm before she could do anything desperate. Her expression quickly became one of despair as she was disarmed and a victorious enemy advanced on her.

Suddenly, the air began to change and the slightly blowing wind picked up and seemed to rush towards his vanquished foe. Harry, immediately went on guard, but was quickly entranced by the bright blue light that covered not just her pupils, but the sclera as well.

Her body began to rise as if she was being controlled by a puppet master. She was floating, and with only her own magical energy! Harry had seen some spells, such as Wingardium Leviosa or Accio, allow the user to do similar actions, but this seemed different.

With a strangled scream, she literally exploded, causing a sea of blue to surround his vision. It took Harry a second to realize that he ought to defend himself, but by this point, magical means was futile; it would take too much time. The shockwave hit him dead on, the force enough to easily snap his neck if he had been in another position.

Harry was sent flying nearly thirty feet into the upper window of the house across the street. His vision swam as his body was forced to recognize the pain he'd went through.

That power! Where had it come from? He'd been nearly incinerated and he'd been standing at least 10 feet away. He felt his vision start to blur, preluding to unconsciousness.

He shook his head and forced his body to continue onwards. He sat up and was met with a depressing sight. A woman and her three kids sat whimpering in a corner. They were lucky to have survived, and hopefully, he could get them to safety.

He stood up to his full height, which still wasn't impressive, and limped over to the frightened family. The youngest child started bawling at the sight of another intruder and Harry couldn't imagine the fear that must have possessed them all night.

Harry extended his right hand towards them and they all whimpered. He immediately noticed where their fearful eyes were locked on: the wand in his hand. He quickly put it away and advanced slowly and consolingly towards the small family.

"I'm here to help," he said, trying to prove that he was not of the enemy.

"NO! Stay back! You're one of THEM!" the woman screamed frantically, pointing at his dropped wand.

A thunderous yell carried its way from nearby, and Harry knew he didn't have time to explain the different factions to three small children who couldn't be much older than 4 and a woman who wasn't in her right mind (though who would be in this situation).

Harry grabbed his wand and quickly stupefied the family, who screamed as the bright red light soared towards them. It killed him to do it, but he didn't have many options left. It didn't take a genius to realize that the boisterous yell was courtesy of an enemy attack.

It was only then that he became attentive to the smoke coming off his armour. Most of it was gone. Little bits and pieces hugged here-and-there around his body, but if anyone got him with a good shot, he was toast. He doubted that it would even protect him from some simple shrapnel.

After hiding his unwilling hosts in the cupboard, which was just large enough, he rushed out of the house, not wanting to stay long in one spot. He caught a glimpse of a large crater that was located in the same position were his recent duel had taken place. A corpse lay on the edge, and it was obvious that it was the death eater woman.

He had little time to ponder as two of his senses were distracted by the central focus of the battle, which was taking place just down the street. Spells shot in all directions followed by explosions, and occasionally, a shout of pain.

Against his best judgement, Harry trudged onward at a slow trot, although the closer he got to the bloodshed, the quicker his adrenaline returned. Only about fifty or so meters from the centre of the destructive engagement, Harry ran into what he assumed to be a flanking party.

Well…ran into might not be the most accurate phrase. "Ambushed" was a better fit. He barely had time to put up an effective shield before it was shattered by a plethora of perilous curses, and Harry himself took a Relashio to the torso.

He was up in seconds only to face another hazardous onslaught. This time, Harry was having none of it and jumped to the side. Unfortunately, these death eaters were not the unskilled the grunts that only made up a small portion of Voldemort's army.

A spell, which he quickly determined was a Reducto, contested a safe landing and Harry was forced to improvise, rolling as soon as he hit the ground. The Reducto hit the exact spot he had been only milliseconds before, blowing up dirt everywhere.

At this point, his attackers came out of hiding, all thirteen of them. Harry grunted as he rose to face his adversary's as equals, despite the balance being completely against him.

'A noble way to die,' Harry thought grimly as he looked each of his opponents in the eye socket. He shivered in fear as he realized that each had their wands trained on the various parts of his body that needed to be most protected.

"Gentleman," he addressed them, "I don't think you want to fight me."

The closest one, assumedly the leader took a contemplating look and disgustedly spit out what seemed to be a rotten tooth, before asking, "And why is that?"

Harry had, of course, only been stalling for time and had no immediate answer to his question.

The death eater smirked. "He's only stalling, Nott!" one of his comrades finally squeaked out. The lead death eater, now identified as Nott, growled and returned his now predatory eyes to Harry.

Was it really worth it to be pureblooded? You lost so much in the long term: brains, strength, and eventually beauty. It was quite obvious that these were a particularly idiotic batch.

Despite the bleakness of the moment as Nott advanced carnivorously on him, Harry saw a little ray of hope in a small movement in one of the upper story buildings.

In what had to have been one of the most cliché moments of Harry's young life, just as Nott was about to fire what was surely to be a nasty curse, an arc of blue hit him in the back of the head, cutting a neat line between the eyes and painting Harry with nearly a liter of gore.

Harry, who had fallen after the startling, but auspicious assailment, quickly resurged upwards and finding a wand pointed right between his eyes and at the drop of a hat, Harry plucked it right out of his opponent's hand. It a wild bout of primal vigor, he tackled his gawking foe into the ground. Before Harry could go to work on him however, the enemy's head exploded from a misplaced spell.

Harry mentally shrugged at the unusual amount of luck and prepared himself to continue his gruesome business. He was expecting some sort of impediment to his continued assault, but found the enemy all focused on a tiny section of the nearest house, which discharged powerful and deadly spells from all of its symmetrical fenestra's.

Harry managed to squeeze off a couple of easy hits on the enemy squad before they realized his presence. He once again prepared himself for either his inevitable demise, or a miracle that would get him just a small bit farther.

Once again, Lady Luck kissed his parched lips, as every single death eater dropped dead or unconscious by an aggregate of offensive curses.

Harry looked up expectantly to see his two-times saviour's metallic-covered faces emerge from the building.

"Wotcher, Black!" said one of the expressionless masks with a mane of pink hair flowing behind.

Harry could honestly say that he'd never been so happy to see her. "Tonks," he replied greeted in his raspy voice. While using magic was rather easy to a wizard and seemingly limitless, using it heavily for long periods of time was rough on the body.

Her eyes widened as she took in his state of armour, or there lack of. "Blimey! What happened to your armour?"

He looked down realized embarrassedly that his pajama bottoms were clearly visible and charred severely in several places. The armour was still attached to his forearms, but the torso armour was gone as well.

Harry fearfully looked at the spot where he had taken a direct hit with a Relashio. The skin was a horribly charred black and it was smoking a good bit. It didn't hurt too badly now with his adrenaline pumping, but it'd be a doozy after the battle.

Tonks noticed and began doting on him as she so often did. "Oh my, let me heal that," she said.

Harry glared. He'd been through much worse and a little bit of burning flesh certainly wouldn't stop him. "We've got bigger issues here, Tonks!"

The soldiers who had accompanied her fanned out around them, preparing for another onslaught. Although standing in the middle of the street wasn't affording them much cover from an attack, but…

Tonks, though looking apprehensively at his wound, quickly told her report: "The entire battalion is deployed here, with the exception of 2 platoons in reserve and Dean's platoon guarding HQ. The death munchers are trying to force us out, but they're attacking recklessly. I'd say a couple more charges by them and we'd have won the war!"

Harry gave a small smile. Sometimes, Tonks' optimism was a bit much. "What about the flanks?" Harry asked, remembering all too well his recent ambush.

"Other than this one, I've got another squad just down the street, and the same on the other side. Don't worry, this position is solid!"

* * *

Harry often had epiphanies during the worst moments. Often, it was during a particularly grueling test, or when he battled psychotic megalomaniacs to a standstill. They had never failed him and had constantly been positive.

However, as he traded spells with a member of Voldemort's Inner Circle (obvious by his opponent's skill level and air of authority he carried) he had his first negative epiphany. There wasn't a possible way he could win this fight.

He simply wasn't good enough. He had barely deflected the vast repertoire of spells produced by this individual and Harry's counterattacks, though admittedly quite cunning, were batted away with ease.

If that wasn't quite bad enough, the chaos around him completed the picture. Tonks had been wrong. Their position was not solid and the enemy had breached the building. In just the living room that Harry's personal battle raged, three other of his comrades faced a steady stream of opponents from the door. It was madness.

"Diffindo!" Harry cried out desperately as he attempted to get the better of his wiry foe.

He easily sidestepped it and countered quickly with what seemed to be his personal favorite: the entrail-expelling curse. Harry had only a small space in the room but dodged the nasty curse nonetheless, only to come face-to-face with a Confringo.

It was unavoidable and slammed into him with a force that could very easily snap necks. Somehow, it didn't, but left Harry dazed and his mask shattered on the floor.

Where was Amelia? This battle had been raging for almost an hour and she and her aurors hadn't arrived. Had something terrible happened to her?

His train of thoughts was interrupted (as they so often were) when he was picked up by the very man he had been fighting. The man, still holding him up by his shirt collar, took off his mask and Harry was afforded a view of a recognizable face.

The death eater grinned as he looked upon Harry's bruised, naked face. "It's been a while, Herakles," he said giving a strange mixture of a grin and a grimace.

Harry struggled against his hold; none of the others seemed to have noticed his predicament but they were otherwise occupied anyways. It was up to him to get out of this one, there would be no saviour coming his way this time.

"My lord will be quite pleased that I've captured you, Herakles. I'll be his right hand man for certain after this!" his captor said with glee. With his adversary engaged in his victorious reverie, Harry took hold off his misplaced wand.

"Depulso!"

Just as Harry banished the death eater across the room, he remembered just exactly who he was fighting. Roddy from Azkaban; or on a more personal note, his sort of stepdad, Rodolphus Lestrange.

Lestrange hit the wall on the far end of the room and gave Harry room to recover. He had a constant throbbing pain over most of his body and he was exhausted. However, he had to keep fighting, not just for himself, but for his comrades as well.

Lestrange picked himself up and growled intensely at Harry, who grimaced. Both opponents raised their wands, preparing for the final showdown. Harry heard the yells of his fighting and dying comrades and felt anger welling up inside. He had a score to settle for murdering so many of his allies. He lit up the air with spell-fire.

"Reducto, Incendio, Relashio!" Harry roared, pumping the spells full of destructive power.

Rodolphus was able to block them, but the force of the attacks left him off-balance. Harry provided him no time to recuperate.

"Diffindo, Diffindo, Diffindo!" Harry growled slashing wildly as his opponent danced elusively around each berserk slash.

"Incendio," Rodolphus countered calmly, his tranquil expression betraying the hidden tinge of annoyance found in his tone.

Harry quickly fired off an Aguamenti and jumped to the side, ready to prepare a knockout blow while his enemy was concentrated on the result of his fire-making spell. Unfortunately, Harry found he had once again misjudged his adversary as he jumped straight into an Everbo.

'Damn,' he thought grimly.

Harry closed his eyes for the inevitable. There was a small chance that Tonks or even Susan might conveniently jump out of nowhere and save him. Or at least he hoped.

But as usual with Harry, luck only came when she thought it was best. This apparently didn't count. The spell smashed into him, knocking the breath out of him, and breaking more ribs than Harry would like to count.

The force threw him through the wall, into an average master bedroom. He couldn't notice any details as his vision swam uncontrollably. It was a miracle he'd survived it at all, especially without any sort of armour.

Harry attempted to sit up, but a wave of dizziness forced him back into his supine prone position. Through the haze that clouded his eyes but never seemed to disperse, he could make out the silhouette of a man stepping confidently through the broken wall.

Harry once more attempted to get up, but was stopped when Rodolphus' left foot came down on his chest. Harry was unable to halt the hiss that escaped his bloodied lips.

"Tch, tch, tch," Rodolphus said condescendingly.

"Poor, Herakles. Perhaps if that horrid mudblood "mother" of yours hadn't of tainted you, you might've actually stood a chance of besting me. Unfortunately, her magic was tainted, and by consequence, so is yours now," Rodolphus droned, managing to sound even more magniloquent than Malfoy could be at the worst of times.

The Lestrange patriarch put more weight on his left foot forcing Harry to grimace. "Perhaps I bore you?" he questioned, putting a quizzical finger to his chin in overdramatic contemplation.

Harry once more felt unexplainable anger well up inside him, but this time it was different. It was more powerful, more lustful, more destructive. His head had never felt clearer; the world never quite this comprehensible.

"Avada Kedavra!" Harry said monotonously, no emotion behind it at all, as he crisply raised his wand to the man standing above him. Rodolphus was fast however and quickly dodged the volt of pure death meant for him.

As Harry rose slowly, Lestrange prepared his dueling stance. "If you wish for a quick death, I will gladly bequeath it to you."

Harry only stared soullessly back at him, his wand arm hanging almost limply to the side.

"So be it!" Rodolphus called, throwing out a nasty flesh-eating curse, followed swiftly by Lestrange's specialty: the entrail-expelling curse.

Harry didn't even blink. "Depulso, Depulso," he uttered calmly, but fearlessly.

Amazingly, both high-level spells were banished away by such a simple charm. Rodolphus looked at him impressed, only to find his adversary blocked by the red light of the Cruciatus. There was no time.

Rodolphus fell to the ground in pain, at some point dropping his wand. He looked up at Harry, probably expecting some relief from the curse, but Harry wasn't about to let up.

He wasn't being himself, some part of him knew, but he brushed it aside as he continued to bathe in his newfound power.

It took him ten minutes to finally regain control of himself. By that point, Rodolphus was little more than a shell, mumbling nonsense.

Harry dropped his wand in horror and stepped back, resulting in him falling on his haunches. He didn't know how long he sat there, but eventually he looked up to see a group of aurors helping him up. As they carted Rodolphus out of the room, he managed to make out a mumbled message seemingly for him: "Dark…"

* * *

Susan walked across the battered muggle village, looking intently at the horrors that the aftermath of the battle had brought. Every building in sight had looked identical before the engagement, but now, they each stood with their own diverse wreckage.

For the first time, the death eaters had deployed giants, a symbol of their growing coalition. The legion hadn't been expecting it; the enemy had just thrown themselves recklessly against their defenses. As far as Susan could tell, it was meant to be a trap.

But they had fought back. All twelve of the giants were dead. But the cost…

Susan watched sadly as her former friends were carried off the field by the Auror Medical Corps. Justin Finch-Fletchly, Ernie Macmillan, Megan Jones, Wayne Hopkins, Leanne, Hannah…

Her best friend had been swatted away by a giant's club, saving the lives of three of the younger year students. The hours they'd spent playing in the garden at Bones' Manor flashed before her eyes, and she felt her knees give way.

She promised herself she wouldn't cry, but one glance at Justin sent her over the edge. His body had been a play thing for the giants for only a few moments. The aurors were still picking up pieces of him.

The rest of their corpses weren't quite as bad, but it was no consolation. She knew in the back of her mind that she still had Harry and her auntie, but right now, she had never felt so alone. All of her Hufflepuff year mates – the ones who'd she'd shared her triumphs and defeats with, her confidants, were all gone, except for Zacharias, someone she'd never particularly liked.

Tears poured uncontrollably from her. Was this war truly worth all this pain?


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N – I've really got no excuse…lol. It's been like 3 ½ months. Ugh…I could say that it was because my schedule this semester includes two college classes and I've had almost too much work. I could also say that I've been nearly constantly immersing myself in the job search (strange that people aren't much on hiring 16 year old males; I wonder why) and these would be true but honestly, I still had plenty of time to write.**

 **In any case, as a sort of repayment, here are two new chapters. Also, you guys might want to go back and reread chapter 5 because it has had a complete overhaul. I like it much better and I think you will too. I also changed the last part of Chapter 7; I didn't care much for it and decided it was stupid. And the last part of Chapter 4 was changed because that was idiotic too. But I think I finally purged this story of stupid stuff. You'll see what I mean if you go back and read it.**

 **Thanks to everyone who followed/favorited while I was away! And those that reviewed received a special place in my heart!**

* * *

 **Chapter 8 – Graveyard**

 _March_ _23_ _rd_ _, 1996_

Hermione looked sadly at the many vacant spots in the Great Hall. Hundreds had vanished over the past few months and they left glaring spots where they had once sat.

Of course she knew that the students had not simply vanished, knowledge she had used to try to defend Dumbledore to the ministry, unfortunately to no avail. The disappearances had not gone unnoticed by the ministry who attempted to put Dumbledore in Azkaban. Needless to say, they'd failed.

She gave a temporary glare over towards Susan Bones which was either unnoticed or ignored. She sighed and went back to her porridge. It just didn't taste quite the same.

Angelina…Alicia…Bem…Parvarti…Harry; how many more would she lose? Anger welled inside her as she cursed Harry Potter for all he was worth. Their deaths had been caused by him.

The logical side of her brain regained control and started, for what must've been the third time this morning and countless times in the past three months, rethinking her actions.

Part of her believed she should be next to Harry, fighting side-by-side with him. Perhaps he truly wasn't a murderer. She should be by his side comforting him, making up for her mistake. He'd been her best friend for years, something only he could boast. Ronald Weasley certainly couldn't.

But then there was her other side; the side bred from years of teasing and a lack of self-confidence. Dumbledore was the leader of the light and he knew what was best. If he said Harry had gone rogue, then it surely must be true. Heck, even Ron, as barbaric as usual, slandered Harry just about every chance he got. He did come from a wizarding family after all.

A muffled shout of "Hermione!" brought her back into the real world. "You haven't touched your porridge for the last two minutes and we have to get to that troll's class soon, remember!?"

The flicks of food that accompanied his words and the horrible grammar with which he spoke drove Hermione into a right foul mood. She was about to give him a sound tongue-lashing when she realized she simply didn't have the energy. She stood and left without another word, feeling rather blue about the whole situation.

* * *

" _Crucio!"_

 _With a swish of a wand and a single spell, Amelia's defenses crumbled. She fell to the floor, right beside the bodies of her parents._

 _Lydia, Edgar's wife, lay dead in the foyer, having charged the death eaters as soon as they battered their way through the dozens of protection enchantments that were cast on the front door. Silent tears for his wife still poured down Edgar's cheeks, as his head lay detached on the floor, severed from his body._

 _Her other brother, Ambrose, lay burned alive and his blackened corpse smoked in the corner. Eva lay in the doorway to the lounging room, having taken a killing curse._

 _Over the sound of her own screams, the auror trainee could make out the distant screams of her nieces and nephews undoubtedly as they realized the death of their parents. One by one, they were silenced by a flash of green light._

 _Finally, the death eater grunts let up the assault on her nervous system. Her vision was still mildly swimming and she was shivering with aftershocks from the feared torture curse._

 _Susan. She was still sleeping in the lounging room. She knew she simply didn't have the strength to fight off all the death eaters, but the two grunts that bore over her on the other hand…_

 _Quick as a flash, Amelia had grabbed her wand and blasted her first adversary to dust. His dying scream surely alerted the rest of the death eaters prowling the hallways of her childhood home, and she knew she needed to hurry._

 _The second death eater fumbled with his wand, but rapidly found that he wasn't quick enough as a severing charm severed his head, much in the way that Edgar had died._

 _Not willing to waste any more time, Amelia limped into the lounging room to see baby Susan peacefully sleeping despite the noise. Without hesitation, she grabbed her, grabbed the nearest item, a pillow, and cast a Portus onto it._

 _As the portkey activated, Amelia could just make out the enraged violet eyes of her would be killer._

Amelia awoke in a sweat, one worthy of the dream she had just experienced. It was horrid having to relive the death of her entire family, and the dream seemed to be recurring in a greater frequency.

She shivered once more as she viewed the clock. Harry was likely up at this point, and she knew he'd likely need all the support he could get today.

* * *

Harry sat lazily on his bed. It was morning, but he wasn't quite ready to get up yet. His night had been anything but restful, nightmares had plagued his mind from the moment he drifted into unconsciousness.

He picked up the book he had been reading last night, _A History of Magical Warfare_ , and turned to the page where he'd left off.

 _The American Revolution was perhaps one of the most interesting events in world history, as a new, fledgling nation bravely fought off the most powerful nation in the world. It continues to baffle muggle historians to this day as to how such an understrength nation could possibly have emerged victorious against such a military giant. Many attribute this to the stellar leadership of one George Washington, and while I do not refute this claim, I dare say that it was another of his abilities that the war was so justly won._

 _To adequately understand just what attribute I speak of and how this relates to the magical community, we must delve into the story of Washington himself._

 _Consistent to history, Washington was born to one Augustine Washington in Virginia. Contrary to popular belief, he was born not of the second wife of Augustine Washington (Mary Washington) but actually of the first wife, Jane Washington nee Butler._

 _Now most of you are probably not familiar with the Butler family, but they were at one point a powerful family of purebloods in Wizarding England. But perhaps I have gone quite a bit off topic._

 _Washington only learned of his heritage many years after he had entered adulthood, but he never quite adapted into the wizarding world that had grown in the colonies. With the colonies on the verge of collapse, Washington finally embraced his wizarding heritage and sent pleas to Wizarding Britain._

 _The Wizengamot was divided, as it so often is, into three factions. The first, led by Septimus Malfoy, wanted no part of the conflict. The second was led by Lachlan Dumbledore who preferred to aid the rebellion. The third was led Ignatius Prewett, who actually wanted to help the queen squash the rebellion._

 _After months of brutal debating, the Dumbledore's and Malfoy's sides tied, and Minister Crowdy decided to send only minor help to the Americans. Much of this came by way of the Potter family, who contributed hundreds of thousands of galleons…_

Harry put his page marker in the book and set it down. It was a good read and all, but it was rather in depth and the author had often proven to go off on tangents.

He had better get up, today was an important day after all. His feet had just touched the chilly floor when the door slammed open. He had his wand out and pointed at the intruder in a matter of seconds, only to find Amelia in her bedclothes. He blushed and dropped his gaze.

"Up and at it; it's breakfast time!"

She'd been going for more of a kindly, joking voice, but found it to be rigorous and demanding as usual. Something she'd have to work on…

Harry sighed and followed Amelia downstairs. They exchanged pleasantries and Amelia started uncharacteristically talking. Harry for the most part ignored her, as he knew her well enough now that she was clearly nervous about something.

Upon entering the kitchen, however, all attempts at chat seized. "What in Merlin's name…?"

'What in Merlin's name, indeed,' Harry thought in agreement. The entire kitchen was covered in flour, except for two suspiciously human shapes on the wall. Sirius and Remus slowly emerged from behind the island, covered from head to toe in flour.

"Eh-heh…" Sirius laughed, somewhat frightened. "There's actually a really good explanation for all this…"

Amelia was holding her temper rather well. "Well let's hear it then," she growled through clenched teeth.

Sirius pushed Remus in front of him and all eyes turned to the poor werewolf. "Well we were trying to make pancakes and…uhmm…things got a little out of hand. He hit me with a bag and then I did…"

Amelia didn't listen to another word, as she hexed the bollocks out of the two screaming males. Harry was nearly doubled over with laughter.

After she was finished with the two crying men, the house elves took over from Sirius and Remus and made a somewhat decent amount of pancakes. Sirius was quote: "voraciously hungry" and took out most of the pancakes by himself. Harry was just proud that his godfather (or cousin, or whatever he was at this point) could use such vocabulary.

All-in-all, breakfast reminded him that he had a family, one that supported him. He needed that, especially with how bloody the war had become, a war that was partly his fault. If only he'd been selfish for once in his life, maybe Cedric wouldn't have died.

Another barb was thrown at Sirius, bringing Harry out of his morbid thoughts for another laugh with his family.

* * *

Amelia watched morosely from the garden where Susan and Hannah played many times in the summer after their first year, as hundreds of new features were added to the rolling hills of the Bones' estate. Hundreds of tombstones that would soon commemorate some of the bravest souls she had ever seen and was likely to ever see.

The Ossuary would truly live up to its name now. Currently, the legion dead were being laid to rest. She felt bad for the parents of the children, they blamed Dumbledore for the disappearance, when perhaps, the blame lay entirely with her.

In all honesty, Harry was definitely the main cause. There was no need to have children fight; they had a perfectly capable auror force…

But did they? Those kids, who'd only a few weeks of training– really a few days – had taken on an enemy that the aurors and hit wizards had quite a bit of difficulty with, and won against situations way out of their control.

Harry gave her an inviting smile to join his group. Amelia gave a polite nod and declined his invitation; she'd had enough of the two remaining marauders for one day.

As horrible as it sounded, Amelia was actually glad that Harry had gone to Azkaban. Her life would most likely be the same boring rotation it had been for years. She would get up and go to work every day, trying to do her best despite Fudge's tight budget for the department, and come home late at night, only to do it all over again the next day.

He'd brought a light into her life even when the darkness was all around them. Perhaps this pending marriage was not as horrible as it first seemed. That's why she was so nervous…

Harry was unusually quiet as chatted Sirius and Remus chatted amiably next to him. They'd helped him through a lot, being fun surrogate uncles, and Harry's trauma from Azkaban (which he thoroughly denied even existed) was nearly extinct.

But today, he seemed to be distancing himself, obviously not trusting of himself. While he'd shown this behavior before, this seemed…simply different. She had seen on it many aurors faces; many had been forced to use dark magic to survive on a mission and felt horrible about it afterwards.

While she was of course a light-sided witch, she completely understood the institution of dark magic if the situation applied for it. No, in her opinion, it did not make you a bad person, it meant you had survived.

There was no need for terrible thoughts like those on such a morbid day. Amelia changed her thoughts over to Susan. The red-haired girl stood numbly with her head downcast, not attempting at all to join any groups of conversing legionnaires. She was utterly devastated by the loss of almost every single one of her dorm mates and according to the group of girls closest to her, something Amelia's proficient eavesdropping skills had immediately picked up on, she'd barely eaten anything and had skipped the majority of her classes.

In all her years with Susan, she had no clue how to help the poor girl. You'd think being basically her mother, she'd know at least what to do to cheer her up, but she was quite saddened to admit that she didn't even know Susan's favorite colour.

* * *

Susan stared at her feet, internally rebuking herself for being weak, but unable to do little more than wallow through past memories.

* * *

" _He's the Heir of Slytherin; I'm sure of it," Justin whispered conspiratorially in her ear. Her young and naïve mind, eager for gossip and not yet seeing the error of her ways, led her to nod her head in furious agreement._

* * *

 _Ernie kissed her lips gently with his own as they sat in the beautifully manicured gardens only open during the Yule Ball. Making sure that her aunt hadn't sent spies to watch her (she wasn't keen on the idea of teenagers engaging in such a "provocative" sport), she grabbed Ernie's head and smashed her lips much more forcefully against his._

 _After a moment, Ernie gave her a dazed smile. "You're beautiful, Su."_

* * *

 _Megan gave a screech as she was unceremoniously thrown aside by a speeding bullet that was soon revealed as the horribly rude redheaded Gryffindor: Ronald Weasley. "Get away from Scabbers you devilish cur, you!" he yelled to the orange-maned cat that chased his scampering rat._

 _Harry Potter came up behind them, his glasses lopsided due to running, and offered Megan his hand. With a huff, Megan took it._

" _Sorry 'bout all that. Ron's a little bent out of shape right now," he said and rushed off after his friend._

" _Thanks for helping, Su," she said in her usual huffy attitude. Susan laughed._

* * *

 _Susan slapped Wayne light-heartedly on the arm as she descended into giggles._

" _Ow, Suzy! What was that for?"_

 _Susan's girlish giggles quickly transcended to a look of rage. "Suzy!?"_

 _Hannah kicked them under the table. "Back to what you were saying…"_

" _Oh right. So Granger starts yelling at Weasley, telling him that next time he should've asked her first. Poor bloke still has no clue what she's talking about!" Wayne gossiped and the three friends burst into uncontrollable giggles._

* * *

" _He's just soooooo super cute!" Leanne shouted in awe. The three of them had to duck as the target of Leanne's current affections looked in their direction._

" _And he just so happens to be dating Cho Chang," Hannah whispered viciously._

" _Details," Leanne said, peeking once more over the table as she waved off Hannah's concerns. "Besides, my friend Katie says that Potter's got eyes on Chang. He'll do some heroic thing and save her and she'll fall for him, leaving Cedric for me."_

" _Uhhm…I don't think that's quite how it works," said Susan laughing._

* * *

 _Susan kicked her legs as she sat in the train compartment alone. She was quite nervous; her auntie hadn't told her much about Hogwarts at all. Suddenly, the compartment door swung open. A blonde-haired girl of similar height stepped in, struggling with her luggage._

 _Susan stared at her the entire time while she struggled to put her trunk above her head and finally left it on the floor when she didn't have the strength to pick it up above her head. The mysterious girl sat down taking heavy breaths before finally opening her vibrant blue eyes._

" _Oh, I'm sorry I didn't even notice you. Hannah Abbot," she greeted holding out her hand. Susan hesitantly took hold of it. Hannah only smiled. "I think this is the start of a beautiful friendship."_

* * *

Tears cascaded down her rosy cheeks and splattered against the grass that had been trampled many summers by her and Hannah's feet. All of her friends were gone; her brothers and sisters who she'd been through thick and thin with. It was suddenly much colder. Why couldn't it have been her?

Familiar arms wrapped around her from the side and Susan knew immediately who it was. She was determined to not let him cheer her up; she'd much rather wallow in her self-pity.

"I'm sorry, Su…if I'd only been more rational…" Harry began, but Susan quickly cut him off.

"It's not your fault and you know it!" she roared and several legionnaires jumped back in fright. "Stop trying to blame everything on yourself! The world doesn't revolve around you, you know!"

Harry drew back as if stung and Susan glared at him with fury. His eyes hardened.

"Nor does it revolve around you," he stated calmly but angrily. "I've lost people too. Angelina and Alicia weren't my bunkmates but as we played Quidditch together, we might as well have been. Bem was quirky but he was always a good friend. Hell, I even lost my parents!"

"As did I," Susan argued with a challenge but the fire in Harry's eyes was already starting to dim.

"I am sorry, Su; I'm just trying to help you see that you're not alone. You've got us."

From the corner of my eye, I saw Auntie Amelia smile and nod her head. Behind Harry, Sirius gave a toothy grin and a thumbs up. Remus gave only a slight nod but a smile played on his lips. The other legionnaires each gave a smile and nod and Nymphadora nearly tackled her into a bone-crushing hug.

The coldness melted away, replaced with a bright warm feeling. Needless to say, Susan began another deep waterworks session.

* * *

Dumbledore cleared his throat. All talking immediately ceased.

"Has anyone heard from either Remus or Sirius?" All heads shook to the negative.

While he didn't make it clear to the sheep that clustered around the table (he had to keep up appearances and all), he was seething inside. He needed to keep them close so they couldn't be poisoned with the truth.

'Perhaps they found out my plans?' he mused. If so, he was already compromised, but he doubted it as he was sure Fudge would've already sent the hounds after him.

"Any word on Harry then?" Mrs. Weasley asked. She looked worried.

"Sadly, no; there hasn't been a sign of him in months I'm afraid. Either he's dead, or he's joined Voldemort. If it's the latter, hopefully we can return him to the light before he becomes to tainted."

Like he actually believed that _hogwash_. Actually it was quite worrying; he had no clue where young Harry was, but if he had joined the dark, there was little they could do to bring him back. Dark magic was simply to captivating. It's not like Dumbledore wanted him back anyways. No it was much better this way.

"Has the auror department found anything about Sirius or Remus?" Dumbledore asked turning to Kingsley.

Kingsley nearly growled. "You've already asked that, haven't you, Dumbledore? And I shook my head just like everyone else." Kingsley Shacklebolt stormed out of the room and the floo activated moments afterwards.

Dumbledore hid a smirk. Gryffindor's always were best at wearing their hearts on their sleeves'. Personally, Dumbledore had never been much for it, yet it proved to help him quite a bit. Perhaps Kingsley, the investigator, needed to be _investigated_.

* * *

Harry gathered the remainder of the legionnaires together, many had went back to school to catch up on school work.

"I've just talked to Amelia and she's confirmed it; no more lessons." The 'awws' were clearly evident in their faces, but no one spoke a word.

Harry sighed. "It's been great guys it really has, but it was never meant to be like this. I just wanted to provide a front for the magical community to hide behind while they got their 'ducks in a row', so to say. I never meant for over three hundred of us to die, but I promise, their deaths _will_ be remembered."

He glanced at Susan and she gave him an encouraging smile. "But we've done it. Fudge has more than doubled the revenue in the Auror Department and they're preparing for war. We've done it."

There was the occasional high-five, but the overall mood of the group remained somber. "Now we can sit back and watch the fight…"

Harry wasn't expecting the downcast expressions that crossed the majority of the faces. "If you ever need us, don't be a stranger," a voice he recognized as Cho Chang's permeated from the crowd. There were several nods, before the group as a whole migrated towards the Bones' Manor floo.

Harry sighed and walked towards the cliff that overlooked a breath-taking view of the North Sea and sat down on the soft grass. Susan sat down beside him with an equally loud sigh.

"Weren't you complaining a couple weeks ago about how behind you were on homework?" he asked, grateful for the company, but mindful of his surrogate sister's grades.

She snorted. Her eyes were still wet and ugly black tracks of mascara cut a trail through her cheeks. "Grades don't really matter much when you're fighting a terrorist."

'Too true.'

They sat in silence for an indeterminable amount of time. It was rather chilly but Harry didn't mind as he was busy watching the beautiful waves form and hit the coast. The manor was located in Northumberland, sandwiched between the River Coquet and the North Sea. It was truly a fantastic spectacle.

"I best head back. Contrary to what I said a few minutes ago, I do actually care for my grades. I'd hate to see Greengrass's face when she takes fourth spot in the year."

Harry nodded his head and gave her a farewell hug. "Be safe, Su. The ministry's all over that place."

"Don't worry about me, I can handle it. Cheerio, Harry! Oh and no brooding!" she said as she reequipped her happy face.

Harry only smiled and returned his attention back to the sea. Would she ever be alright? He took her friends from her. And yet she still trusted him, comforted him.

'Just like the rest of the legion.' They were great and all, but sometimes it really bothered him. Were they just simple sheep following him, their shepherd, to the slaughter? He thought about it for a moment.

No. They decided to join and they did everything asked of them and more. They were the true heroes of this war.

He knew he wasn't a hero. He tortured Lestrange into insanity. He was dark. He would never join Voldemort of course (that'd be rather counter-intuitive by this point), but what if he did actually manage to defeat Voldemort. Would he become the next Dark Lord, starting this cycle of hate and destruction all over again?

"Harry!"

Amelia. She'd probably looked all over the property for him and Susan had directed her this way. Harry stood with a stretch and made his way over to an increasingly nervous-looking Amelia.

Brilliant. Whenever she was feeling a negative emotion, it usually transferred to anger.

"Where've you been!? Do you know how long I've looked? This property has well-over a thousand acres, you know!"

"Sorry, I was down by the coast." Harry found it best to just reply truthfully and without annoyance or vitriol.

She deflated and looked decidedly nervous again. "I…I think it's time," she said cryptically.

Harry thought he had a pretty good idea of what it was but decided to have a little fun anyways. It was the only time this would ever happen in his life, after all.

"Yes, it is getting about lunchtime, isn't it? I'm feeling some Chinese, myself."

She stared at him dumbfounded and Harry couldn't help but to crack a smile. Her expression quickly turned to that of an enraged lion.

"When I get done with you, you won't have a ring finger!" she announced before chasing him around the yard while casting stinging hexes. After a few minutes, they collapsed on the ground beside each other and Amelia was giggling harder than he'd ever heard before. Harry smiled. Perhaps there were better things in life than being just sad.

* * *

"Ana, you have done an excellent job, my dear."

Ana shivered in excitement at her lord's praise; she'd only heard praise like this when he was speaking with Bellatrix. Said person leaned against the wall, scowling directly at her. She should probably be worried that the dark witch would seek retribution, but the Dark Lord wouldn't allow her to touch his most coveted servant, would he? She directed a smile at Bellatrix, who huffed and left the room.

Voldemort laughed at the display of rivalry. Ana was an excellent informant and without her, he wouldn't have been near as successful in this war. She made him look like a genius. On the other hand, Bellatrix had done just as well on her muggle raiding. Hundreds of…subjects…now occupied his torture chambers.

In the end, he'd have to choose Bellatrix simply due to her blood. But Ana needn't know that.

"So my dear, have you any news?"

"Yes, mi lord. I have the schematics to the Ministry building as well as information about the Department of Mysteries itself."

Even Voldemort was surprised at this. "Stellar, dear Ana. Perhaps someone deserves a promotion?"

Ana cried with joy at the praise she was receiving. She felt a little bad about rating out her friends, especially Kingsley and Amelia, but she did plan to survive this war. And become Voldemort's right hand woman at the end.

"Pettigrew, come here!" Voldemort shouted. Even in his voice, there was power, so much so that the room shook.

Pettigrew scampered in and quickly bowed. "You called master?"

"You've been faithful, Pettigrew. For that, you shall be rewarded."

Pettigrew jumped up in pride. "Thank you, master!"

"Avada Kedavra," Voldemort said absent-mindedly. Pettigrew didn't even have a chance to move. Nagini immediately moved to enjoy her meal.

"Now, about that promotion, dear…"

* * *

 **A/N- Review! Basically a filler chapter but Chapter 9 is pretty good. Or at least I think. Hmmm...that thing about an author going off on tangents...that doesn't sound familiar to me at all. XD**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N- I'll try to get into writing about an hour a day plus one day a week devoted completely to it. With that, I should have the next chapter up in a couple of weeks.**

* * *

 **Chapter 9 - Then Comes Marriage**

 _June 14th, 1996_

"I can't do this."

"Sounds accurate. I mean, he is like 18 years your junior."

"Not helping, Titus!" Amelia growled, but soon capitulated back into her nervous state.

"When you invited me to the wedding, I was expecting Sirius Black. But I guess that means I can just have him for myself then!"

"Do you think my makeups okay?" Amelia asked no one in particular, tuning out Ana's plans for snatching that "other handsome Black."

"It's fine. Although I do wish you had bought that other dress; it actually matches your eyes."

The door opened and Susan stepped through, her face one of stoicism. "Harry's ready."

Susan turned to walk out, but then stopped at the last second. "You look fantastic, Auntie."

Despite Susan's positive reaction, Amelia's nervousness overtook her once more. "Perhaps I should go over my mascara once more?"

Ana just laughed and walked out, leaving a perturbed Amelia without help.

* * *

Harry sat obediently in his chair as Andromeda fixed his hair.

"Are you nervous, Harry?" she asked, unsure of what else to ask. He had been even quieter than usual today.

"Not really," he answered noncommittedly. He was a little of course. Well maybe more than a little, but she didn't need to know that.

"I remember my wedding. Ted was such a dork back then." 'Back then?' Harry snorted internally but did not interrupt.

"He botched the whole thing up of course. It didn't really matter though as it was just the two of us. Neither my family nor friends supported the marriage, and his family had never quite grown accustomed to the wizarding world. And he'd never had very many friends to begin with...I'm rambling aren't I?"

Harry gave a noncommittal shrug and a small smile.

"I suppose I'm nervous too; for you that is," she said after a moment of contemplation.

"Why?" asked Harry as he spoke for the first time that day.

"Ted and I were so young - we'd only just graduated after all - and we faced many problems, and not just because he was a muggleborn."

"And you, you're marrying a woman - all too literally - at the tender age of 15."

Harry bristled and she went on quickly. "Not to say that you're fragile, but...you're just so young to be forced into this."

She was crying now and Harry wasn't sure what to do. "I can handle it," he said surely. "I've battled a basilisk before; this can't be that hard."

Andromeda dried her tears as she laughed. "You make the mistake of comparing that woman to a basilisk. She's much worse," said Andromeda, letting her dislike for the woman known once again.

Harry did laugh this time and imagined that this was how a mother would act. At least, a mother like Lily Potter.

"You best go ahead and get out there. I'm sure she'll be out shortly."

* * *

Harry stood at the altar, gazing nervously at the few people they'd actually trusted enough to come to the wedding. Sirius stood next to him as his best man, leaving Remus and the Tonks on the groom's side.

Amelia's side consisted of even less people. Ana Titus was the bridesmaid and was ogling Sirius from across the altar. Susan sat bored on the front bench by herself as Amelia had no other friends.

The pastor of the small church they had decided on for the wedding was a muggle and stared surprised at the lack of attendees.

This was not how Harry had thought of how his marriage would go. Course, he hadn't exactly expected to find someone who'd accept him, but if he ever was that lucky, he had at least expected for Ron and Hermione to be there. The entire Weasley family, Dumbledore, hell even ruddy Neville, he had expected.

Ron would be his best man and Hermione would sit there looking beautiful as usual...they were supposed to remain a trio through thick and thin. Harry felt the beginning of tears forming and quickly banished the thoughts. This was supposed to be a special day after all.

There was no music; Amelia had agreed that this wedding would be as simple as possible. So when Kingsley Shacklebolt led Amelia down the aisle, there was nothing to block Sirius' gasp.

Harry wouldn't lie, she was quite beautiful but he had become rather adept at covering his emotions. Obviously, Azkaban hadn't taken any of the Gryffindor from Sirius.

Kingsley took his place beside Titus (who was looking rather peeved at the moment) and the invocation began.

"Thank you to the friends and family that are here today to celebrate the union of Herakles and Amelia. This occasion not only marks the beginning of their marriage commitment together, but it is a commemoration of the love nurtured and shared between these two. Together, they embark today on a new life together, built on the foundations of trust, compassion, and mutual respect," the priest said in one long-winded breath. He'd obviously done this many times before.

"If there is anyone in attendance who has cause to believe that this couple should not be joined in marriage, you may speak now or forever hold your peace."

And then, as if it had been rehearsed, the doors of the church flew open, and in stepped his mother with several death eaters.

"Harrikins! Why didn't you tell your mother that you were getting married today? We had to rely on information from that bitch!" she yelled cackling and pointing at Ana, whose face suddenly paled drastically.

Harry had little time to process this as he quickly turned to the priest. "Could we speed this up a little?"

The priest only nodded as he watched with wide eyes as both sides drew their wands and started viciously casting at each other.

"Marriage is an ancient human tradition..."

Harry ducked under a lung-exploder hex. "Uhh...can we skip all that?"

The priest nodded quickly in agreement as pieces of roof rained down on him.

"Herakles, do you take Amelia as your cherished wife...?"

"Yes!"

"Amelia, will you take Herakles as your cherished husband?"

"Yep!" she growled, batting away an unknown curse with her now drawn wand.

"I know pronounce you man and wif..." There was a gurgling sound and the man clutched his throat as a cutting curse severed his jugular.

A glow formed around him and Amelia as their marriage was recognized by magic.

Harry had yet to draw his wand yet and a death eater was bearing down on him. He doubted he would be able to dodge at this range and braced for whatever barrage of curses would spew from his wand.

Fortunately, he was saved as Sirius tackled the man to the ground. Sirius gave a barely noticeable nod telling Harry that he had the situation under control.

Harry yanked his wand from his pocket and dived into battle with the nearest opponent. It was just his luck that he wasn't one of the inner circle, and Harry was able to easily subdue him with a nice Percutio through the eye.

Harry caught a glimpse of Amelia who was a demon on the field of battle. He'd heard stories of how vicious a woman could become if her wedding day was ruined, but he thought them just that - stories.

She banished one across the room as she chucked another through the window with her physical strength. She was much more beautiful in this respect.

Harry suffered from his staring by nearly taking a bludgeoning hex to the face. He barely managed to dodge it and it landed behind him, splattering him with wood shrapnel.

He scrambled to his feet, only to be blown back by a reductor curse that hit the ground near his feet.

"Pathetic! You're a Black for goodness sakes! The son of the Dark Lord! And you can't even fight," she taunted brutally.

Harry growled and wasted no time in counterattacking with a Percutio. She batted it away carelessly.

"I'm glad I got rid of you. You're weak!"

"REDUCTO! PERCUTIO! RELASHIO! INCENDIO!" Harry let loose with a shout of primal anger.

She batted away the first one, dodged the second one, but causing her to jump into the last two. Sensing victory, Harry rushed in to finish her.

Like lightning - and much faster than an injured person should have - Bellatrix came to life and quickly threw the Cruciatus at him.

He had no time to dodge and Harry received an experience he hadn't expected: dropping like a sack of potatoes. His mother's Crucio didn't seem quite as potent as Voldemort's, but it was excruciatingly painful all the same.

It was only mere seconds that he was under it, but it felt like hours had passed. The scene around him was chaos. From his position on the floor, he had a great vantage point for each individual battle.

Sirius was dueling a man - whose mask had been destroyed - who looked very similar to Rodolphus. Nymphadora was finishing up two grunts in the corner, whilst her father and Kingsley covered her. He couldn't find Amelia, but he did recognize the only fallen member not dressed in death eater robes. Ana Titus was dead. Good riddance.

This brought him back to his current predicament. "The Dark Lord seems to view you as some sort of rival. Honestly, I can't see it. Goodbye, Herakles. Perhaps that mudblood girl who raised you will be waiting on you."

Strange, it almost seemed as if she was trying to give Harry some consolation before she killed him. She seemed likely for the mother of the year award.

"Avada Kedavra!"

Harry closed his eyes in acceptance of his fate, but the breeze that usually accompanies a flying object and the shattering of said object above him warranted his attention. Sure enough, a piece of stone had taken the killing curse instead.

Harry capitalized on his advantage and swept his feet under Bellatrix's. Though he only managed to unbalance her, a swift Reducto sent her flying.

Amelia helped him up, sighing in relief. "I thought you were a goner for sure," she said, breathing heavily.

Before Harry could respond, Bellatrix stood up, carelessly brushing herself off.

"RETREAT!" she shouted in a shrill, cackling voice.

Each of the death eaters heeded her word and immediately broke off their engagements. More than a few fell with reductos to the back.

Harry could not keep the grin off his face, especially with the noises of apparitions from outside. His mother saw his smirk and she gave her own. "Avada Kedavra!"

Harry ducked as he was sure it was meant for him but soon found that her wand was not pointed at him. Remus - who was busy with another enemy - didn't even see it coming.

And then they were gone, all of them, as aurors charged into the room. Many were rather surprised to see their Department Head in a wedding dress that was nearly shredded and their second-in-command, Shacklebolt, in a tuxedo that was in little better shape.

"Well look who finally showed up!" Amelia roared.

"As you know, there's been some trouble in the Improper Use of Magic Office..." one of the squad leaders began.

"I don't care if Merlin himself was having trouble, my husband and niece was nearly killed! Why do we even have aurors if they can't do a bloody thing about the death eaters?"

Harry tuned out Amelia's roars - a skill he was highly thankful for - and surveyed the damage. Sirius and Nymphadora wailed over Remus - the latter of which had gotten rather close to in the past few months - and Andromeda tried desperately to comfort.

Harry allowed himself a moment to mourn the werewolf whom he viewed as a sort of father. It was he who had taught him the Patronus Charm - which was still perhaps his most powerful weapon. He was his best DADA teacher; he wouldn't have been able to survive the tournament, much less the war if not for his help. He was one of his father's best friends; Harry's uncle Moony.

His tears were flowing now and he futilely tried to wipe them away, only for them to be replaced by more. Trying to clear his head, he stumbled over to Susan who sat staring blankly at the ground.

"'Ello, Su. What's on your mind?"

She gave him a bright smile, something he wished he could do so easily, "It's nothing really. It's just I've known Miss Titus for years and to think she was a death eater all that time."

Harry nodded. He couldn't really relate, but he knew she must be feeling some amount of betrayal.

"I hope this war ends soon, Harry," she said, glancing at Remus. Harry could only nod in agreement.

"It'll be over before you know it," he replied with smile.

* * *

 **A/N – Lol. This was fun to write. Small chapter compared to my other ones, but I felt this is where it needed to end. Unfortunately, Harry is only too right at that last sentence. Don't forget to review!**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N- Well…I was still a week and a half late, but it's still a far cry from 3 months so hopefully, you'll let this one slide. (To be honest, I only started this on Thursday so that's pretty good!)**

 **So I know we've seen (or perhaps imagined) several gruesome deaths, but I suppose that I should warn about the occasional cuss word (don't know what the majority of them mean, but…).**

 **In any case, it's actually a decent chapter.**

 **Disclaimer: Shouldn't have to put one of these, cause if you don't know by now…**

* * *

 **Chapter 10 – Honeymoon**

 _July 29_ _th_ _, 1996_

 _Many of the great men in history belong to wizard kind. Napoleon does not disappoint in that aspect. Arguably, he was the greatest military commander the world had ever seen…and not a bad wizard at all._

 _Unfortunately, he was rather genocidal and was responsible for the deaths of thousands of wizards in occupied Italy, Dalmatia, the Low Countries, and perhaps worst of all, Russia. In fact, Russia's magical community remains in disarray due partly to the destruction of nearly a quarter of the wizarding population._

 _Surprisingly, it was due to one of the youngest countries on earth that Napoleon was finally defeated. The Europeans enlisted help in defeating Napoleon in the preparatory stages of the sixth coalition and young America answered the call. It was at Leipzig when an American wizard managed to get a tracking charm on Napoleon and his armies were constantly doomed at that point._

 _After another rise to power (which led to the seventh coalition and Waterloo), Napoleon was finally imprisoned on the island of Elba. When he attempted another escape, the British wizarding government decided that he was too dangerous and sent an assassin to kill him. Many muggles believe that Napoleon died to arsenic poisoning, when in fact, he was killed by the killing curse itself._

"Harry, I think I've found something."

Harry put down his _History of Magical Warfare_ book and turned to Amelia. They were currently in the Bones library, pouring over various spell books for anything close to the spell the one death eater had used on Harry back in March. Amelia had been fascinated by it and its possible applications and decided that she'd better learn it just in case.

Harry had never been much for research and had bored of the task long ago, but Amelia continued to plow through each of her books much like a certain brown-haired, buck-toothed Gryffindor girl used to do. If anything, the situation comforted Harry as he felt like he was reliving the good days.

"It says here you have to say the chant…"

"She didn't say anything though," Harry interrupted. At first, he was afraid he'd stepped out of line and was about to receive a few stinging hexes, but Amelia had already moved on.

"What about her hands? Did she move them at all?"

"Not that I can remember. She just kind of levitated into the air." Harry gave a noncommittal shrug and was about to return to his book when Amelia spoke again.

"Did she move any of the appendages on her body?"

"Look, Amelia, maybe we should just give it a rest. We've been here for hours," Harry said carefully, thinking over each and every word so as to not incur the wrath of his wife.

Her face was already scrunching up when anger when a house elf popped into existence before them. "Windsey is sorry to interrupt, masters, but Master Shackles has flooed, Missus Bonesy."

"Thank you, Windsey." Windsey nodded and popped out of existence once more. Amelia sighed and stood tiredly.

"Don't wait up on me; I probably won't be back till late."

Harry nodded and followed Amelia out of the library. Once they reached the floo in her room (something he had never particularly liked by the way; why not have it in the sitting room like normal wizarding households?), Amelia turned around quizzically as to why he was following her.

"Have a good day then, I guess…" Harry said, wondering himself why he had followed her and reddening slightly.

She raised an eyebrow and snorted. "Yes, I'm certain I will. Especially with Fudge's constant nagging, trying to get me to help him out of the bind he's got himself into with the public."

She threw in the floo powder, turning the constantly burning fire green. "Oh and watch the marauding idiot, will ya? I'd rather not come home to a burnt down manor."

Harry gave a mocking salute and perhaps just maybe Amelia's mouth twitched upwards, if only slightly. And then she was gone, leaving Harry alone at the house, except for Sirius of course. Speaking of which…

He headed towards the drawing room where their guest usually could be found, entertaining himself. He reached the drawing room and found it empty, devoid of the cheery feeling that usually accompanied it. It seemed to have left when Remus did.

Harry next headed to one of the guest rooms. Sirius was most likely held up in his room, mourning, like Harry supposed that he, himself, should be doing. The war had hardened Harry though, and while the sadness towards Mooney was still painfully there, he was easily able to banish it from his thoughts. Perhaps it was part of his descent to darkness that he no longer cared for death.

Like always, Harry pushed the thoughts away as he arrived at Sirius' room. It tried the handle and found it to be locked, something highly uncharacteristic of Sirius, but less so in the last month. Without knocking, Harry walked through the door finding Sirius lying on his bed, staring blankly out the window.

He was suddenly unsure if he should go through with his plot. "Sirius?"

Eventually Sirius answered, "Hmmm…?" turning his head ever so slightly.

"I was thinking about me and Amelia going away for a few days and I need you to do something for me," Harry stated rather unsurely.

"What's that?" Sirius asked almost unconcernedly. It had been a month and yet Sirius was still moping around like the world was ending. Though to be fair, he still wasn't over his friends and they weren't even dead.

Harry was surprised at how quickly Sirius had agreed, not to mention that he'd agreed at all.

Harry decided to leave it at that and left quickly. It was weird seeing Sirius in this state; it just wasn't…natural.

* * *

Amelia awoke as she had for months, sweaty due to particularly vicious nightmares. This one had been a rough one: both Susan and Harry had died. Susan had been mowed down by death eater curses and Harry had exploded. Quite unpleasant.

 _Knock, Knock, Knock_. Sitting up warily, Amelia grabbed her wand and called, "Come in."

Nobody had knocked on her door since Susan was a mere child of five. Instead of death eaters charging through the door, which she thought most likely, a mane of unkempt ebony hair followed quickly a pair of violet…Harry, she realized.

Perhaps the most surprising thing was not Harry, but the item he carried. His common stoic expression quickly turned into a smile and he announced exactly what she thinking, "Breakfast in bed!"

He jauntily crossed the room while she tried to close her mouth lest she catch flies.

"What's the occasion?" she finally managed to get out.

"Well…the other day I was thinking about how you haven't had much time to relax with the ministry and all," he began as she chowed into her breakfast. "And then I realized we never had a proper honeymoon!"

Amelia nearly choked on the bite of bacon she'd just taken.

"It'd be great to just get out for a couple of days; maybe we could go see Paris! I've always wanted to go there," he enthused.

She had managed to force the bite down with a gulp of water (she hated pumpkin juice, much to Harry's disappointment) and finally managed to reply with some concern, "And how exactly do you mean to go about this?"

Harry stopped in his tracks. "Whattaya mean?"

Amelia scoffed. "Well I'm not sure that you've noticed, but we've got a depressed dog moping around here. Not to mention that there's no way Fudge will let me take time off."

Harry gave her a cheeky smirk. "I've found a way to take care of both problems."

She was still skeptical but just shrugged and with a smile asked, "When should I pack?"

* * *

They dropped down in the middle of a small French shop, with Harry still laden with their luggage. Amelia gave a light chuckle as she saw her husband attempt to not show the stress of holding up several dozen pounds.

"Bonjour!"

Harry and Amelia turned to find the fixated gaze of the French shop owner.

"...Bonjour," Harry greeted unsurely, having never learned another language other than English. Perhaps he should've taken those French lessons Hermione had offered.

The man gave an obvious sneer, whether it was from his atrocious speaking or his accent, Harry didn't know. It became obvious when the man muttered, "Damned Rosbifs."

Amelia was bristling and Harry moved quickly to intervene. "Any attractions that you'd recommend, sir?"

"Eiffel Tower."

"Thanks then," Harry said, slightly irritated himself at the owner's lack of respect, and led Amelia out the door.

"Frog," she mumbled as they exited the travel shop.

Harry allowed himself an amused snort, but decided not to humor Amelia further. They didn't need the entirety of the French Magical Law Enforcement after them due to his wife's unreasonable temper.

"Where to, love?" Harry grunted as he tried to keep the luggage off the ground. He'd never been particularly strong and Azkaban certainly didn't have a weight room.

She chuckled once more at his predicament before waving her wand and shrinking the luggage down to the size of a quarter. Harry looked on in awe. "Surely you've heard of a shrinking charm," she said as she sauntered off towards the looming French monument.

Harry gawked as he slipped the tiny briefcases into his pocket. "Hey! Don't leave me behind!"

* * *

Sirius couldn't comprehend why exactly he'd agreed to this. Perhaps Remus' death had done what Azkaban couldn't: turn him barmy.

"You alright, Amy?" Kingsley Shackleblot said from across the room, trying to stifle a laugh.

"Fine, _Queen_ ," he retorted.

Fudge continued with his ramblings despite the exchange between the two. He'd been moving his gob for nearly an hour, saying precisely the same thing, though perhaps with different wording. The rest of the Department Heads took it in stride, nodding their heads; despite them all knowing that it was just a load of bollocks.

"So if we cut 25% of the funding for the Research and Development department, and funnel it into the Auror department, we could spend it to dispense armoured robes to the entire command," the blighter rambled.

Sirius sighed and laid his head on the table. To think, he still had eight more hours of this cack.

* * *

"I've never been to Paris on pleasure before."

"Neither have I," replied Harry as he strained to see all the buildings from the taxi.

Amelia rolled her eyes playfully and Harry winked at her before returning to his sight-seeing.

The driver's voice pulled Harry back to the real world, "We have arrived."

Thankfully, Amelia was so distracted by the tower that she didn't respond with the smart aleck reply that was sure to follow in any other situation.

"Thank you," Harry paid the man his fee and followed Amelia from the cab, walking towards the great elevators that serviced the tower.

Looking past the crowds of people waiting in line, Amelia directed Harry up to a small ticket booth that went unnoticed by the majority of the people waiting in line.

"How may I help you?" The attendant in the booth asked with a raised eyebrow.

"We would like to visit one of the observation decks," Amelia answered with a smile.

"This booth is for magical sections only," the attendant replied with a bored tone, "would you still like to buy a ticket?"

"Naturally," Amelia replied with a colder tone.

Harry paid and led his wife to the elevators nearby. Not wanting to ruin the vacation, but having never really had a way with words (and most certainly not women), Harry bluntly said, "I don't see how you even function in society with that temper of yours."

She looked at him with perhaps the most evil expression he had ever seen. Realizing his mistake, he tried to mediate, "Hehe…I didn't mean it like that, dear."

The door of the elevator opened to the magical section of the Eiffel Tower and Harry crawled out in agony. Merlin did Amelia's stinging hexes sting.

"Mind that mouth of yours, _dear_ ," the source of his agony said sweetly as she stepped over him into the small crowd of people that littered the viewing platform.

Harry picked himself off the floor and dusted himself off. A few people stared at him and he was surprised at the amount of people here. Sure it was summer, but still, he didn't think that so many of the magical community would visit Paris.

The 16 year old joined his wife at the guardrail, making sure to keep a slight distance lest she decided to continue her earlier assault. The view was quite breathtaking. His eyes tried to take it all in, from the amazingly beautiful buildings to the River Seine that glistened seemingly only a short distance away.

"It's fantastic, isn't it?" Amelia questioned after a moment.

"Better than I ever imagined."

Once, when he lay alone and bruised in his cupboard, he had dreamt of visiting Paris. His young and naïve mind had even conceived the illusion of one day escaping his hell and running away there. Of course, as he grew older and wiser, he realized it was just a fantasy. And yet, here he was, living that fantasy.

* * *

Sirius began to sweat; he was going to have to come up with a manky response for this knob.

"I'd say perhaps a third of the department is without sufficient armour."

The duffer gave him a considerate look. "Are you alright, Amelia-dear? You sound a bit…different today."

"Hem-hem! It's just this cold that I caught. No worries!" he said in his best Amelia impression.

Fudge seemed convinced and continued on, but the other department heads began giving him skeptical looks. He resolved himself to not mess up again (Polyjuice potion only did so much) and to be sure to wring Harry's neck when he next saw him.

* * *

The adventure in Paris didn't end with the Eiffel Tower. Amelia was adamant that they see every attraction in the City of Lights, and Harry quickly learned that there were _way_ too many museums in this single city.

The Louvre was pretty cool, but he tired of museums after a two and a half hour long journey in the Musee d'Orsay, he'd never really had much respect for art. Next, she dragged (technically apparated) him to the Notre Dame Cathedral, before quickly apparating once more to the Arc de Triomphe. After he threw up his breakfast (most certainly due to over-apparation sickness), Harry decided it was time for lunch.

Amelia suggested the Le Tournebievre, a muggle restaurant that she had eaten at last time she was in Paris. Harry nearly fainted at the prices, but then again, he certainly wasn't hurting for money and they were right across from the Notre Dame.

Afterwards, they made a trip to the Palace of Versailles, which they elected to use the muggle method as Harry didn't fancy seeing his lunch go the same way as his breakfast. It took them several hours just to make it there, but in the end, it was well worth it.

Harry had always appreciated history and this certainly helped sate it. The Galerie des Batailles (Hall of the Battles) was the most interesting thing in Paris as far as Harry was concerned. The French had once been the most dominant military force in the world and even if Napoleon wasn't perhaps the best role model due to his ambitions, Harry respected him.

Amelia was a little less interested and Harry was worried that she wasn't enjoying herself and led them to the picturesque gardens, where Amelia hesitantly took hold of his hand. It was a bit awkward at first, but Harry tried to get as comfortable as possible.

Their vacation came to an abrupt end, however, when they surveyed a random and seemingly innocent bookstore. It was your average magical bookstore (exactly like Flourish and Blotts in his opinion); Amelia wanted to get some kind of souvenir for Susan, who'd jokingly said that she'd rather stay at Hannah's for their honeymoon so they could have some "quality time."

 _Understanding the Dark Arts_ had caught Harry's eye since they'd first entered the homey store. While Amelia had chatted amiably with Mademoiselle Mercier, Harry had passed it no less than three times. What an English book was doing in a French bookstore was beyond him, but it kept drawing him back to it. Finally he decided to give in and buy it; he reasoned that it would hopefully help him understand Voldemort and his fall to darkness.

Harry self-consciously walked up beside Amelia. Noticing him for perhaps the first time, the woman behind the counter asked, "Find everyzing alright?"

"Oui, Mademoiselle," answered the British wizard with the only two words he knew in French.

He paid the required three galleons and hid it out of Amelia's snooping gaze. Deciding they had time to kill, Harry joined in on their conversation.

The owner was a young muggleborn lady and nice enough, much better than the service they'd received from the rest of the French magical community. In fact, they'd been having an interesting conversation about little known Parisian attractions, when the recognizable sound of portkeys appeared.

Both Harry and Amelia had their wands out in moments and as soon as they noticed the terrifying skull masks of the death eaters, they began mowing them down. Harry had just thrown two reductors, easily taking out two unsuspecting death eaters when the counter behind him exploded.

Harry jumped out of the way of the shrapnel and glanced as the spot he had been moments before was eradicated with nearly a dozen dark curses and spells. Turning back towards his opponents, he sent a Percutio their way and moved to the safety of one of the bookshelves.

Sneaking a quick peek, he saw that Amelia had done the same, though she was bleeding in several spots and still trying to hold off three death eaters. He had to do something quickly or she would be overwhelmed.

With a flick of his wand, he felt a large chunk of his magic drain as all the books in the store suddenly began pelting their attackers. Harry rushed to meet Amelia, whom met him halfway. "Can you apparate?" Harry asked as they took a back-to-back formation.

The death eaters were dispelling the curse much faster than Harry had expected and the remaining eight had surrounded them in the small opening in the store next to what used to be the counter. The owner was either dead or fled, either way, it was good that she was gone because it was about to get quite messy.

"Not anymore…" Amelia said with a growl…as well as the tiniest bit of frustration. At least in their other fights, they'd never been at such a disadvantage, but now, they stood very little chance.

"Surrender!" the fiercest looking death eater growled out. He didn't seem too happy, especially with that nasty looking gash on his shoulder.

"Not bloody likely," Harry challenged defiantly.

This was the moment to prove that he really was strong enough to even look Voldemort in the eye. To see if he really did have some sort of awesome power that had protected him on that night, since it seemed unlikely that his "mother's" protection was still relevant. He needed to be more than just Harry for the moment. The same feeling washed over him as it had when he had faced Rodolphus. He willingly embraced it. This wasn't just his life; it was Amelia's as well.

As the leader began to speak, a neat red line appeared on his neck. The man looked down in shock and began choking on his own blood. He fell to the floor dead.

Before the other death eaters next to him realized what had happened, the two of their number closest to Harry were already dead too, courtesy of two Percutios drilled perfectly between the eyes. Amelia capitalized on the advantage and blasted one across the store, who landed with a sickening crunch against the window.

Harry swept Amelia's feet from beneath her, causing her to fall quite viciously, as the enemy finally managed to begin a counter assault. The blood-boiling hex soared harmlessly over her, but Harry found himself in a crossfire; one behind him and the other directly in front.

Harry bent backwards into a complete ninety degree angle and watched as both killing curses surged past. The one in front was struck, but the one behind dodged the wayward curse barely. Fortunately, Harry, still bent over, had a perfect view of his target. "Everbo!"

The other two death eaters apparated out before Harry could deal with them. He returned to his regular posture, before bending forwards, resting his hands on his knees. That session had been particularly draining.

"Avada Kedavra!"

If he'd been paying attention, he'd have noticed that the death eater Amelia banished across the store was up again. Perhaps he would have been able to dodge, if not counter, the horrid spell. As it was though, his only warning was the flash of light and the words that would be his death.

All he could do was stare into the green light, until he felt a pressure on his arm and the feeling of compression just milliseconds before the killing curse would've collided with his body.

* * *

"Ow…" Harry moaned as he opened his eyes to a blinding light.

"He's awake! Sirius, get me a cool cloth, would you?"

Harry heard Sirius sigh and mumble something about prats and their berkish ideals before leaving the room. "What happened?"

"You left yourself wide open and I had to apparate away quickly. Surely I taught you to pay attention to your surroundings!"

Harry frowned in self-disappointment as he realized her words were true. Another Harry in another time would've fought back fiercely against such accusations, but in the end, she was correct. How would he ever manage against Voldemort if he couldn't even handle one little tosser?

Amelia saw the sudden despondency on her husband's face. "Though, admittedly, I'd be a goner if it weren't for you," she conceded abashed.

In that moment, Harry decided something. Admittedly, he'd been coasting so far in his relationship. They'd been married for over a month and they'd only just held hands earlier that day. This may not be his ideal marriage, but with Voldemort on the rise again, he had better enjoy while it lasted. He'd start out slowly, perhaps with a small hug.

He leaned up from his prone position on the bed and gave a startled Amelia an awkward hug. He had never been much for physical contact, especially after his stint in the wizarding prison, and was unsure of how to provide a hug. Hermione's and Mrs. Weasley's hugs were a bit too crushing for his taste.

Over her shoulder, Harry saw Sirius standing awkwardly in the doorway. He waved him off, mouthing that he was fine, and Sirius began slumping off with the tiniest look of…jealousy? Before Harry could think too much more about it, the expression had been replaced with a smirk and Sirius gave him a wink before closing and silencing the door.

Harry was certainly discomforted by that display, but those thoughts were drowned at when Amelia pushed him slightly away and looked into his eyes. Her navy blue eyes against his violet one's. Before the situation became too terribly awkward, Harry began to say something, anything to disguise the fact that she moving steadily closer.

"So…I, uh…"

Her lips crashed into his quite painfully and he yelped into the kiss. At first, he struggled, but then remembered his earlier thoughts. This was much quicker than he had planned for, but maybe this would make things better. Ignoring the awkwardness of their relationship with the occasional kiss, though perhaps not the healthiest way, seemed like the better and honestly, the more fun way.

And with that thought, he melted into his first kiss. And then things got a little bit more heated, more so than he would've liked had he not been overcome with hormones.

* * *

Harry did his best to not gaze at Amelia while she slept next to him. Despite the fact that they'd become quite…acquainted with each other's bodies earlier that night, he couldn't shake the feeling that he would be perving on her.

Steering his thoughts away from earlier that night, he turned on his bedside lamp and began reading his new book. After the first couple of pages, his mind was swimming with new thoughts, and he went finally went to sleep after a rather long day.

 _To ever understand this book, you must first grasp the concept that magic is not so black and white. Dark magic is not purely evil (unless you make it so) and light magic is not purely good._

 _Consider it this way, light spells, with enough force, can easily kill even the best armoured wizard or witch. Therefore, light magic can do the same thing that dark magic is attributed to: destruction. In the same way, dark magic can be used for good, if you know how to control it that is._

 _That is the primary mission of this book, to teach those who wish to wield powerful dark magic for good._

 _Take Avada Kedavra, the most powerful spell in existence, for an example. Perhaps you find yourself in a life or death situation. Sometimes causing another person death will save you from the same fate. You could use a light spell, that has no reassurance, or you can use_ _ **the**_ _death spell._

 _Unfortunately, the spell is well-known for its seductive power of causing the user to continue to want to cause more death until said person is completely evil. What if I told you there was a way around this?_

 _It's all in the intent. Ever wonder why aurors use it and in most cases, have no negative side effects? That's because they didn't want to kill, they had to. This premise is the basis of this book…_

* * *

Voldemort sat in his throne as he did almost constantly. In front of him were three of his most loyal followers: the deliciously insane Bellatrix Lestrange, the devious Rabastan Lestrange, and the recently broken Rodolphus Lestrange.

"We brought him just like you asked, mi lord. It wasn't easy, but we managed to break him out of Azkaban with rather light casualties," Bellatrix reported with hopeful eyes.

Ah yes…he had told them he'd break him out of his vegetative state. It was child's play for a mind art master like him.

"Legilimens!" he hissed as he pointed his wand between Rodolphus's dull eyes. A little flick here, a whoosh there and…

"M-Master!?" Rodolphus stammered as his eyes returned to their natural life.

Bellatrix and Rabastan were at the foot of the throne in seconds, basically snogging the hem of his robes.

Truthfully, he'd only brought Rodolphus back due to the lessening number of his inner circle. He had plenty of worthless recruits from all over the entirety of the wizarding world, but he lacked the efficient commanders to lead them.

"Thank you, Master! Thank you!"

"Yes, yes," he sighed. It was so difficult being a pitying king.

"Lestrange's," his voice boomed, addressing all of them. "Ready the ranks. We're heading for the ministry as soon as possible."

"Yes, mi lord!" they replied with a collective shout and rushed off.

He'd been forced to put back his plans for much too long, due simply to Pot-, err, his son. He believed he didn't need family; something that he at first had deemed unsatisfactory, but he had now found a better way to approach it.

Voldemort had wanted to get his hands on the prophecy for years now and it was finally within his grasp.

He glanced at the ring on his finger and stood up. It was time to begin gathering his horcruxes.

Everything seemed to be going perfectly, but he had a single problem. Without Harry in Dumbledore's clutches, he had no idea what the old goat was planning.

* * *

This proved just how much control he had over wizarding Britain. Even at nine o'clock at night, they heeded his call with admiration.

"To start this meeting off, I've just received some disturbing news." With the tiniest glance at Severus, who remained hidden in the shadows, he continued, "Voldemort-," the majority of the Order flinched, "is on the move once more. This time he's planned the attack at the Ministry."

The Order gasped. "We have to stop them!" shouted some insignificant lower member.

Indeed, Dumbledore had not planned for Voldemort to move this quickly; the combined wizarding army would not arrive for at best another two days.

"I'll notify the ministry, of course, but we must prepare a counterattack, just in case."

Foolishly, most of them yelled out that they'd join his "Advance Guard" as he'd fashioned it.

"I've already gathered the one's who'll go to the Ministry if they're needed," he said with confidence. In reality, some of these wizards and witches were too good to waste. He had some much better recruits.

" _We'll do it Professor Dumbledore! You can count on us!" Ronald said with a clumsy and quite hilarious salute._

" _It might be dangerous; are you sure children?" he asked to insure their loyalty._

" _Yes, Professor," replied Hermione. She seemed a bit suspicious of his intentions, but was ready to follow orders anyway. The perfect little soldier._

" _Now remember, your job is to protect Professor Trelawney, alright? Don't do anything unnecessary," he cautioned._

 _He watched as the two youngest Weasleys, Miss Granger, and the enigma Lovegood began planning on the best way to succeed in their task. Strangely enough, the little Lovegood child watched him closely the entire time…_

Most seemed disappointed that they weren't part of the strike team. To appease them, Dumbledore added, "Perhaps if they were to need some assistance, we'll be ready, just in case."

While the majority of the Order sighed in relief, Dumbledore was not much at ease at all. Everything was moving much quicker than he'd planned for, and though he'd reacted accordingly, it seemed that it wasn't enough.

Harry and his whereabouts were still very much unknown, but through the subtle tracking of Kingsley, he'd managed to pinpoint the perplexing boy to only a handful of places.

Frustratingly enough, he'd learned also of the boy's activities, and it seemed as if his main effort was to get him fired from his position at Hogwarts. It had made his plans near impossible, but due to a couple of political favours and his always loyal Order, he'd managed to pull through.

Knowing this, he'd decided to draw the two out (with massive support from Severus, of course) and once they'd destroyed the other, he would arise victorious. Not that he cared much for the prestige of the victory, more that it was he who had guided magical Britain through their times of crisis and he would continue to till his dying days.

And if his plans fell through, he'd make sure that Harry's life became worse than just sad.

* * *

 **A/N- See why it isn't labeled in the Romance category?**

 **I don't know French (quite obviously), but I do actually know a decent amount of German and I was going to add a part where they go to Germany, but I decided against it. I simply didn't have time to write what was probably going to end up being like 10,000 words.**

 **So it seems that my love of military history can't even be contained through my writing! Just tell me if it's too terribly boring.**

 **This was supposed to be a relatively light chapter, and though it still kind of was, it turned out a bit more than angsty than I meant it, especially with what's coming up...but I won't spoil that for you.**

 **So things are about to go to a head! That's up next chapter. Got no clue when it'll be up, but hopefully not too long.**

 **Review!**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N- Yo! Lol, it's only been THREE months. No, but in all Siriusness, I've recently decided that I'm going to make a poll. The reason being that personally, I think the plot has gone past Hades and all the way to Tartarus. Okay not quite that bad, but some of the plot is definitely cringe-worthy (to me at least). So here are the choices.**

 **I continue onward with what I've got and finish it since I'm almost done and the plot is not that horrible.**

 **I continue onward with what I've got and finish it, and then I turn around and change it.**

 **I drop all work on it for now and change everything and then finish up with the new plot.**

 **So you've got till 7:00 Eastern Time on June 30** **th** **to do it!**

* * *

 **C** **hapter 11 – Collaboration and Division**

 _June 29_ _th_ _, 1996_

The weather was perfect. It was neither hot nor cold, yet he seemed to be on a quaint Caribbean island. Harry idly wondered how he'd got here before he lost himself in the soothing breeze.

He walked to the coastline and peered at his reflection in the water. He stumbled back, tripping over himself as he saw the familiar green eyes that he'd parted with what seemed like years ago.

"Death eaters, and they're headed to the Ministry," Kingsley answered.

'Should've known the giant tosser wouldn't even give us one night to rest…" Harry grumbled. Harry gave him a calculated look, "How did you manage to learn of it?"

Harry could not keep the accusatory tone from his voice. There were few people you could trust these days, especially purebloods who worked for the government.

Kingsley scowled. "And here I thought you had a good judge of character. Dumbledore told the Order."

"You never can be too careful these days," Harry said as a sort of apology.

"Very true, lad. I can't say I wouldn't have done the same. Anyways, Dumbledore gobbed on about having it under control and all, but I figured he was bluffing."

"How can you be sure, Queen?" Amelia asked, entering the conversation.

Kingsley scowled at the derogatory name that seemed to have stuck despite all his efforts, but replied with only a slight increase in hostility in his deep voice, "Well considering it was quite obvious who he sent…"

"Who did he send!?" Harry interrupted, afraid that he was right on his guess.

"Judging by your reaction, I'm guessing you've guessed it."

"Gather the department!" Amelia barked. "I want all available aurors scrambled at once."

"You're a bit behind the times, Amy-dear. It's already done," Kingsley said smirking.

"That's great, Queen. You looking for a promotion?"

"Not exactly what I had in mind but it would certainly be appreciated…"

"Come off it," Amelia growled. "Now get out!"

Harry stared at the door as the dark-toned Auror ran out, though he didn't really see it. 'Ron, Hermione, what are you thinking?'

* * *

"What are you talking about, Luna?" Hermione asked angrily.

The ditzy blonde girl was rather annoying. Hermione was surprised to find that Ginny had a female friend outside Gryffindor and even more so when the girl's personality was revealed. Her "theories", as without fact that is the best they could be considered, were unrealistic and certainly unorthodox, though not lacking in originality.

"Can't you see them? The thestral is right in front of you," said a confused Luna. "Could it be that the Nargles have impaired your eyesight?"

"I think not!" Hermione exclaimed, her dislike for the girl showing in a bit of annoyance.

"We don't have time for this, you two!" Ginny whispered fiercely at her two bickering friends. It had been bad enough sneaking away from their parents and they needed to be back preferably before sunset.

Hermione continued to glare at an increasingly innocent looking Luna. Ginny sighed.

"Ron, help them up onto these…horse thingies or whatever," she ordered, hoping that a push in the right direction would get them going.

Ron had fallen asleep standing up.

"Ronald!" Hermione snapped.

Ron's eyes flew open. "I'm awake," he slurred, his mind still trying to reboot.

"Children…I'm not sure if this is…"

"Shut it, Trelawney!" Ginny snapped.

Hermione certainly could not say she liked Trelawney very much at all, but to Trelawney's credit, she did not speak again. If she was anywhere near as smart as Hermione assumed she _might_ be, she was probably wondering why she had agreed to this ridiculous plan. Hermione knew _she_ certainly was.

After a couple more minutes of arguing, Hermione finally gave in to Ginny and Luna's urging to get on the "Thestral" (she was still loathe to believe that one of Luna's mythical creatures actually existed) and after giving a vindictive shove to a dozing Ron, they were off, to London and destiny.

* * *

The atrium was just as alive as it had been nearly five months ago. Aurors and hit-wizards alike ran in all directions, Amelia directing them.

"Lawton, we need anti-apparation squads over there! Davis, I want four squadrons of hit-wizards targeting that entrance! Shacklebolt! Where the hell are the medics? Greengrass, I want those breastworks now!" Amelia ordered with the fierceness of a tried military officer.

Harry stood somewhat in awe. He'd never been much of a tactician (hell he had never been much of a commander); all he'd done was fight and had never really paid much attention to how his fellow legionnaires stood their ground. Susan had been class at that.

Right before his thoughts turned to self-loathing, the fireplace closest to him burst to life. Harry quickly turned his wand upon it, only to find a familiar girl with red hair stumbled out of the floo, who'd just recently been in his thoughts.

"Susan!" Harry called, rushing over to steady her.

She grabbed him as soon as he came into contact with her, her eyes dancing with a sort of calculated fury.

"What's wrong, Su? What are you doing here?"

She seemed to calm a bit and after glancing around at the hectic scene answered, "I was at Neville's when I heard. Weasley, the other Weasley, and Granger escaped and word has it they were going to the Ministry."

Harry grew uncomfortable in her grasp and lightly shrugged her off. "You shouldn't be here. Voldemort's coming."

"I assumed as much," she said with fake haughtiness. "If Voldemort comes, let 'em! We'll whip him every time!"

No sooner had she said that did the sound of apparation fill the Atrium. Scores of death eaters now occupied the other end of the colossal room.

The two sides stared at each other. The auror's reactions, Harry understood. From what he'd heard, many had never seen a death eater, much less fought one. But the enemy…Harry could only assume had not expected to be faced with a room full of brandished wands.

Within seconds, the battle was on full-fledged. Harry and Susan found themselves trapped in the no-mans-land, which was certainly not a positive development.

Harry shot off a couple of Reductos and Percutios each and pulled Susan towards the safety of the magically-constructed defenses. At first glance, they seemed untrustworthy, due highly to the shimmering that often accompanied constructs. To the contrary, these seemed to be holding up quite well under a hail of destruction.

An explosion to their left threw them to ground. Susan whimpered, but stood all the same, and they were off again.

Harry heard shouts of spells dangerously close behind them and he pulled his companion to the ground, watching as spells tore the ground in front of them to shreds.

The aurors in front of them sent a volley of Reductos that sent the death eaters scurrying.

"We're almost there, Su, keep going!" Harry yelled over the incredulous amount of noise.

Susan nodded, her red hair already mucked with rubble, and they made a dash to the safety of the defenses, springing over them as death eater curses rained down on the defenders.

Harry, now feeling much better out of the open, made to fire back but he was stopped by the scene in front of him. It was a kill zone. Heaps of the enemy lay dead or dying and the survivors huddled amongst the dead for some sort of protection.

Honestly, it made Harry sick. He'd seen war before, but this…this was just slaughter. He wished that the aurors would cease their incessant barrage. They did nothing of the sort.

Two death eaters decided they'd had enough and attempted to escape through the floo. Fortunately, they made it through the fireplace, but wherever they were going, their corpses would arrive riddled with spells.

One death eater was looking frantically for his arm so that it had a chance of being reattached in the sea of flesh, but it didn't matter because a piercing hex hit him right between the eyes.

This went on for several minutes, the cries of the wounded prevalent throughout, before the situation drastically changed. The floos came alive and out from the green fires poured giants, followed by all manner of creatures, not excluding death eater reinforcements.

It was here that Harry put all his qualms about slaughtering the death eaters behind him. If he didn't fight, the roles very well might be reversed.

Chaos once more descended upon the Ministry. The woman to his left took an Avada Kedavra to the face and the man to Susan's right was attacked by a werewolf.

She quickly disposed of it with an overpowered Everbo, but she would've been swatted away like a fly if Harry hadn't managed to pull her to the ground as a giant's club swept over their position.

They picked themselves up and were immediately re-engaged.

"Thanks," Susan said as she dodged the spider's lunge, slicing off a couple of its legs which allowed her to finish it with a Reducto.

"No problem," Harry grunted as he dodged an attack from his own six-legged problem. Fortunately, Harry's problem was squished underneath a giant's foot, so he needn't come up with some overcomplicated way to defeat it, but it did present a whole host of problems.

With the position compromised and the majority of the aurors and hit-wizards dead or scampering back to the next defensive line, both Harry and Susan simultaneously agreed that perhaps this wasn't the best place to be anymore.

* * *

"Are you sure this is the way, Ronald?"

Hermione had never seen this part of London before and certainly not late at night. More than a few of the indecent people around this late at night looked lecherously at their weak-looking group.

"Of course, 'Mione! What d'ya think me of, a common dolt?" he replied with a healthy dose of confidence.

"To be fair, Miss Granger's question does have merit, I've never been to this part of London before," their unwanted, but ultimately necessary, professor spoke up.

Ron immediately came to an abrupt halt. "You mean we've been walking around London for half an hour and this barmy bint didn't even tell us we're in the wrong place!"

"Ronald!" she shrieked. Despite their current situation, it was never decent to curse or be disrespectful.

Ginny and Luna's eyes flicked uneasily at the unmoving eyes that stared them down.

Trelawney took a much larger gulp from a flask she had briskly procured than was necessary and as she placed it back in her coat pocket, it clanked against something.

'So that's why she's always so batty…'

"Oh, yes…that's right. Dumbledore did give me that portkey, didn't he?"

Hermione blanched.

Ginny fingered her wand dangerously with an enraged expression.

Luna giggled.

Ron blew a gasket. "WHAT!?"

* * *

Despite all the noise, the shout of Avada Kedavra stood out. Harry watched as the sickly green light exploded from the end of an auror's wand and slammed into the large torso of the nearest giant. It crashed to the ground with a tremendous crash, sending cobblestone in all directions.

Harry quickly curled up next to the barricade, taking cover from the hail of pebbles.

He stood back up as quick as possible and found the enemy had advanced a bit too close for comfort.

"Percutio!"

The spell pierced a charging death eater through the leg. He toppled over and Harry was about to move on to the next target before the wounded man stood up again, a curse evident from his posture. A quick disarming curse took care of that problem.

Harry didn't know how many he'd killed today, at least half a dozen, and he didn't care to add more to that number. Fate was against him.

No sooner had he moved his wand to the next enemy, that a werewolf bounded across the defenses, landing directly on top of him. Perhaps Harry could've taken care of it easily had he not looked into the werewolf's eyes.

They were a light green, much like Lupin's. The advantage passed to the unknown werewolf who certainly didn't care who Harry looked like.

The weight was suffocating; the werewolf was standing right on his chest. Bones began to crack as his chest gave in. It wouldn't be long until his vital organs were crushed under the unfathomable weight of the grown werewolf.

The wolf snapped with its teeth, aiming for Harry's uncovered head. In a sudden act of self-preservation, Harry threw his arm in front of the attack. Surprisingly, the dragon armour cracked, but the werewolf's teeth did not penetrate.

Harry took one last glance at his opponent's eyes. They were not warm and comforting like Remus' green eyes, they were decidedly much more hate-filled. This wasn't Remus.

His right arm was currently entrapped in the razor sharp maw of the dark creature, which was coincidentally, his wand arm. Harry used every ounce of strength to attempt to push the wolf off of him. It very quickly became obvious that he would never be strong enough to push a grown werewolf, especially one with the added advantage of gravity.

The wolf unlocked its jaws from Harry's arm in preparation for another fanged assault, this one likely for a more vital and uncovered part of his anatomy. Harry was willing to accept any assistance at this point and used the short lull to his advantage. It proved to not have been quite enough.

As Harry rolled out from under the wolf (which took no small amount of effort), an unimaginable force slammed into him from behind. He rolled uncontrollably as his body was racked with another bout of pain.

Had he been any less of a battle-hardened soldier, Harry probably wouldn't have walked out of this alive at this point. As it was, after only a couple seconds, the victor, or perhaps survivor, of the first engagement of the war at Leadburn, Scotland, the first aerial battle in magical warfare in the skies above Northampton, and the slaughter at Cranwell Village, was up on his feet and dodging a lunge from the nightmarish beast.

True, Harry had never fought a werewolf before tonight. But it mattered not, no creature was immortal. And Harry had already found its weakness.

The weakened fifteen year old boy stumbled as he hit the ground and in a stroke of luck common for Harry, his hand retrieved his fallen wand. It was a good thing too, the wolf had already lunged.

He had barely enough time to bring his wand up and utter the spell, before it was upon him.

"Reducto!"

With precision perfected after months and years of training and horrid situations, the orb of destruction entered the wolf's salivating mouth. The subsequent explosion was not pleasant to anyone in the vicinity.

With the werewolf dead at his feet, Harry peered over the barricade. He had been so focused on his own battle that the world around him had faded into a distant dimension. There could've been a lull for all he knew. He was sorely mistaken.

The death eaters and their allies were attacking just as ferociously as before and their numbers seemed endless. But the aurors were not at a disadvantage by any means. They mowed them down almost as fast as the enemy could replace them. In front of Harry's section alone, he roughly counted around one hundred dead enemies, as opposed to their sixty.

"Lady Bones has asked for your immediate departure to the rear."

Harry's heart very nearly flew out of his chest and he swung around, not sure what to expect. It was a man, dressed head to toe in a deep midnight colour. The outfit, or whatever it was, gave off no discerning body structures or facial expressions, even the eyes were covered.

Harry stared strangely at the man, unsure if this was just some convoluted death eater ploy to capture him.

The spellfire intensified. Harry was forced to take cover before he could properly formulate his thoughts. He watched as the man whipped out his wand and cut down two unsuspecting death eaters.

A firm grip on his shoulder temporarily took his attention from the new entity on the battlefield. "He's an Unspeakable, Harry. It seems they're here to help us!" Susan yelled over the ferocity of the baffle.

Sure enough, the sea of red Aurors was now dotted with hundreds of black specks. Susan lightly took his hand. "...and that means we better follow his orders." Harry could've swore he saw a smirk on the man's face, despite his emotionless mask.

* * *

Amelia glared at them with vehemence. There stood her Susan, dressed in jeans and a light blue blouse, covered in blood, sweat, and grime. Harry looked little better and seemed to be in pain with every breath he took.

"Susan, dear, whatever are you doing here? I thought you were with Neville!"

Faced with the anger of Amelia, Susan always crumbled. She'd heard stories from Harry about Susan's ferocity on the battlefield, but Amelia was quite sure she was scarier than any death eater.

It proved to be true once more.

"I'm sorry, auntie...it's just...well I heard from Neville's grandmum that Ron and Hermione were headed to the Ministry, Molly Weasley flooed her in a right state, and I thought that..." Her mumbles were incoherent from this point on.

Despite being in quite a state herself over the impetuousness of her niece and husband to throw themselves into dangerous situations, Amelia gave a hearty laugh.

"Well don't worry yourself, Su, your friends are alright. They probably just decided to go for a walk, the weather is grand this evening!"

An explosion nearby nearly threw them to their feet. The atrium was a big room and the enemy had covered almost a quarter of it in less than half an hour.

"How can you be so sure, Amelia?" Harry asked. Perhaps there was no need to worry, he'd simply overreacted...

"The only way into the Ministry is through those entrances over there, dears. And with the aurors here all night, they couldn't possibly..."

Both teens in front of her jumped.

"Amelia, you really shouldn't overestimate the defences of the Ministry, especially when someone as talented as the Supreme Mugwump is involved."

Amelia didn't jump as high as the others, but she was quite embarrassed to say she jumped nonetheless. The infuriating man always did that to her.

Harry had his wand pointed quite directly at the intruder's head, looking rather threatening if she did say so herself.

"Ah, Amelia, the youth you surround yourself are lively. It seems you've trained your protégé quite well, or might I amend, husband."

The voice was deeper than Kingsley's and belonged to the man who was constantly in the shadows, Amelia's superior in every way other than rank, the leader of the Department of Mysteries: Saul Croaker.

Amelia sighed. "And how wonderful it is to finally grace us with your presence," she snapped whilst motioning to Harry to lower his wand.

He complied but only after an intense scrutiny of the man.

"Well, I decided it was time to come and play, after all, your department isn't doing a very good job of winning this war. Relying on schoolchildren to do your dirty work, Amelia? Quite pathetic." His voice had taken one of hostility.

Amelia was just as vicious in her reply. "Perhaps if your department had done its job, this wouldn't have happened!"

"And what makes you think we haven't?" he smirked as he spoke.

"You're no longer alone in this war anymore, Amelia," he continued in a softer voice. "So let's give it to 'em! Aurors, hitwizards, and Unspeakables work quite well together after all."

Amelia scowled, but inside she was exuberant as she realized that she and Harry would no longer hold the weight of the war on their shoulders.

"Fine. Just don't get in the way."

Croaker smiled. "One more thing, some of those Order pests have infiltrated my department. I'd send some people to take care of them, but it seems I'm needed here."

No quicker had he said that that Harry was speaking. "I'll take care of it for you!" he said nervously. He didn't want Ron or Hermione to become casualties due to a misunderstanding, even if they were no longer his friends.

"Yes, you picked nicely, Amelia. Courageous and decisive, you don't see much of that these days. Sure lad, take care of it for me. Perhaps I'll even consider you when some new spots come open."

Harry blushed but smiled in what he hoped was confidence.

"Thank you, sir. Let's go, Susan," he added, grabbing her hand.

"Wait!" Amelia called, "take Tonks with you too."

The woman in question scurried over from her position in the reserve line, stumbling more than a few times.

"Wotcher, Harry and Susan! So what's all this about?"

Explaining the situation rapidly, Tonks, in deep thought, responded with: "Goldstein, Rockford! Get your arses over here!"

* * *

Hermione was still trying to figure out Professor Dumbledore's choosing of them as the members of this mission. There were hundreds of Order witches and wizards that were a hundred times more skilled than she was and could probably ever hope to be.

Perhaps it was because he feared that the war would last long and he was preparing the next generation to lead their fellow Hogwarts students into battle. This took her thoughts to a dark level as she remembered just how fantastic Harry had been at being a leader…

Hermione's thoughts were thrown off their track as the arrived at their destination: aisle 91? And the prophecy that Trelawney had made. The ninth floor of the Ministry's cove had been eerily quiet up until this point as they passed hundreds of identical shelves, stocked full with thousands of identical cyrstal blue balls.

According to Dumbledore and solidified with her own quick research, only three people could retrieve a prophecy: the two that it affected (or sometimes one in particularly strange cases) and the one who made the prophecy. As they were short on the former two, Trelawney was the next best, though Hermione was skeptical that the barmy "seeker" had ever truly made a prophecy, much less an important one.

"Alright, Trelawney, hurry and nick it so we can get out of here. This place gives me the creeps!" Ronald said, his voice penetrating the silence. "My bed has sent me an invitation, the pillows are fluffed and the blankets comfortable!"

Hermione marveled at Ron's articulation. She'd been trying for years and now it seemed that he might've actually absorbed her lessons. But it was more probable that he was simply passionate about sleep.

Hermione gasped at the names under the prophecy ball that Trelawney had obviously targeted. **Harry James Potter. Thomas Marvolo Riddle Jr.**

The prophecy that they were there to collect was Harry's! The implications of that were abundant in her mind. Could that be how Harry survived Voldemort all those years ago?

Her mind was quick to race with thoughts of the young man with brilliant green eyes. Why would Harry betray the light to be with the person who had murdered his parents? What proof was there that he had even allied with the dark? It was quite obvious at this point that he was wrongly imprisoned. But then, why was he hiding?

As soon as Trelawney carefully pulled down the vibrant, glowing ball of prophecy, Hermione's attention was drawn from her conflicted thoughts to find them surrounded by black beasts with skeletal masks, ones she hadnt seen since her embarrasing flight at Azkaban.

Two stepped forward and removed their masks and Hermione gasped. There stood Bellatrix Lestrange in all her glory; her once emaciated frame was no more, several months out of Azkaban had made her body strong once more. Her eyes showed with an energy that had not been seen in the Daily Prophet photograph from six months ago and she was regaining some of the beauty that she had once been known for.

Next to her stood Lucius Malfoy. While his presence was not as surprising given Harry's testimony of the graveyard last year, it proved that Voldemort was truly confident if his death eaters were reveiling their identities.

"Perfect, boy, you've done our work for us. Now hand it over." Lucius Malfoy's smirk was prevalent even through the dim light. It sent shivers down her spine. Nothing that Hermione had encountered, however, was quite as horrible as Lestrange's smile. When that smile was shown, it was obvious death would follow.

"Potter is not with you then? A pity; that boy should learn his place," Bellatrix began and seeing little change in expression in all but Hermione, she continued, "But nevermind that. Hand it over to dear Lucius and just perhaps, our time shall be short."

Hermione didn't doubt for a moment that time with Bellatrix would end in an interesting death to be sure. But to be honest, they had little choice. It was four hardly-trained teenagers and one witch, that was hardly prepared with battle magic, against at least eight death eaters and two of which were of You-Know-Who's Inner Circle.

"I think not," Trelawney challenged, her words fierce, but her voice an octave or two higher. "Dumbledore entrusted us with this."

"Dumbledore!" Bellatrix sneered the name with all the decency of a wild animal.

Hermione glanced at the rest of the group, caught Ginny's eye, and nodded to the rear. The two death eaters behind then didn't notice, or at least, gave no inclination of such. Her eyes widened and nodded her head fiercely; she had clearly given up on getting out of this alive.

Ron stood like a statue, glancing at each individual enemy, sizing them up. Ginny caught his eye and he, Luna's, and soon the whole group looked anxiously at Hermione. Meanwhile, an increasingly furious Bellatrix bantered with Trelawney the nutter.

"You know, I've seen people with hair like you before; it has never been good. Perhaps I could give you some herbs to lessen the…"

"Close it, barmy bint! And they say I'm mad!" Bellatrix cried, seemingly enjoying the encounter. Malfoy Sr., however, was certainly not.

As the other death eaters shifted uncomfortably with the exchange, Malfoy fumed. "Bellatrix," he said darkly, "remember the Dark Lord's orders."

This seemed to sober her up and she dismissed Trelawney's next statement about tea leaves. Malfoy turned to them and stated simply and ominously, "Give us the prophecy or I will force untold horrors upon you, or rather she will," glancing meaningly at Bellatrix. Hermione understood the message even before the "Dark Lady" grinned widely, showcasing her yellowed teeth.

"Never," Trelawney supplied foolishly.

Bellatrix reacted quickly, but to her credit, so did Hermione. Snapping off a quickly nod to her comrades, she turned and sent a point-blank blasting hex into the two individuals directly to her right and then executed a ninety-degree turn, stunning the death eater behind her.

Ron did the same, blasting the two death eaters on the other side of Luna to dust and nimbly catching the prophecy ball as it flew out of Trelawney's hands. A concerted tackle by Ginny and Luna finished off the final death eater to their rear and all of them took off, occassionally putting up shields as Lestrange's and Malfoy's rage were thrown against them in vicious spells.

Hermione, though not liking her brief teacher one bit, was sad to say that they could not bring back her body. Bellatrix had done a number on her torso and what was left of her body included only a few scattered limbs and her dismembered head.

It soon became obvious that the death eaters that had cornered them were not all Voldemort had sent. Potshots were taken by death eaters from on top of shelves and in-between. It was rather nightmarish, but somehow they made it out all together, but on their exit they recieved quite a surprise.

It didn't matter that he was under a glamour of some sort, or perhaps under the influence of a Polyjuice potion, she'd known him for years and his expression was still the same.

"Harry!?"

The boy in question looked at her with shock and weariness. "Hermione?" he asked tentativily.

Hermione was shocked to see Susan and Tonks there as well, both of which it had been ages since she'd last seen. Susan, not so much, though their last meeting could've went better.

No need to dwell on memories now, the death eaters were almost on top of them. The others seemed not to notice that fact with Ron and Ginny looking suspiciously at Harry (they were in the middle of a death eater trap after all) and Susan carefully asking Luna why she was with _their_ lot.

The situation seemed to come to a boil when Harry swiftly reached out and grabbed Ron by his shirt. Ron was so surprised by the action that he had no time to process that he was being attacked.

Hermione soon realized, which to her dismay was probably at the same time as the others, that Harry was only protecting Ron from a enemy attack and put up a Protego.

"We've little time for this now. We need to get out of here," Harry said, his voice decidely deeper than before.

Ginny was reluctant to follow Harry and his entourage, but with their exit cut off with death eaters, they were forced to run deeper into the interior, the aurors fighting off the enemy as they retreated.

There were eleven of them, not including Tonks, and they seemed relatively talented and were much better than the average You-Know-Who lackey.

They finally came to a floor with a depression and nearly everyone fell as they jumped blindly into the shallow abyss. An explosion and shook the entire floor and the aurors followed them down, each landing better than the children.

"Well Tonks, I must say, it was great that you decided to include us, but next time you talk to an Ensign like that, I'll have your head!" Goldstein said chuckling. He was clearly enjoying being in the thick of the fight.

"Yessir!" Tonks said, snapping off a salute.

"Aurors…barking mad, the lot of 'em," Ron mumbled under his breath.

"Let's go, we're almost clear," Harry said quietly enough, but loud enough for everyone to head still.

Ron as stubborn as always, was not just about to let that slide. "I don't think so! I'm not going anywhere further with you until you tell us what's going on!"

Harry looked remorseful. "We really don't have time, Ron..."

"Like hell! Look, Harry, I'm sorry. I was wrong to blindly follow Dumbledore, and I'm trying to return the favour."

"And you think you can just walk back into my life after that? You're more arrogant than I thought!" Said Harry, but he must've not meant it because he started into his story anyways. In five minutes, Hermione felt her heart break several times as she realized just how much she'd lost when she decided to follow an authority figure instead of her best friend.

She should've been beside him during Azkaban, as he struggled when he found that his parents weren't who he thought, when he fought members of Voldemort's Inner Circle in duels, and especually when he was forced to marry someone twice his age. Did the woman have no decency!?

Hermione was forced to dry her tears for the young hero when the undeniable sound of feet were heard against the hard worden floors. Ron's stubborness for an answer had allowed the scattered death eaters time to reorganize and begin their attack anew.

They formed a half circle around the room, they seemed to be coming from all directions, and prepared to fight anew. Hermione was distracted and she noticed Ron was too, but they could do little about it right now.

She finally noticed how strange the room seemed. In the middle stood a giant, pitch-black portal (or at least that was what it looked like). It was a strange feeling that washed over her, one of complete helplessness.

They poured into the room, dozens upon dozens of them. It didn't matter that they mowed them down as soon as they rushed in, they were soon being pushed back with casualties. Three of the aurors were dead, but Hermione couldn't tell if it was Tonks or Goldstein, she was busy herself.

Harry was a monster. He waved his wand and weaved in between enemies with the grace of battle-heartened veteran. Of course, if his stories were to be believed, he was, and Hermione was certainly not about to not believe him now.

She herself had stunned two and was in preparation for stunning another, something she was quite proud of as she refused to kill anyone. Two more aurors fell dead. The weight of the attack was decreasing, but they'd still all be dead if they didn't keep fighting.

Ginny went down clutching her arm. Luna cut down a death eater by herself, proving she was a capable fighter. Ron was doing a good job also, which was a far cry from the three of them running off in the first battle at Azkaban.

Harry and her came to a position where they were back-to-back. "Hermione," he called, "I know you. I know what you're thinking. They'll just keep being revived if you keep on shooting stunners."

"I won't kill, Harry! These are…they're people!"

Another auror went down. It was this glance that nearly had her killed. An unsuspecting death eater hit her with an Expelliarmus that sent her wand flying. He was upon her in moments and Hermione screamed, but in a flash, Harry was there. He kicked him in the chest and immediately sent a blasting hex into his throat. Blood splattered everywhere.

Hermione heard the next event before she saw it. An unclear spell was shouted and she had to struggle from her vantage point on the ground to see. She wished she hadn't. A purplish hex hit Susan in the stomach and she toppled over without a word. She didn't get up.

* * *

Harry didn't even stop to see if Hermione was alright; as soon as he saw Susan fall, he charged the man, planting his elbow into the death eater's face.

From the corner of his eye, he noticed another auror fall, fortunately only wounded. The death eaters took care of that quickly and mercilessly, with at least ten reductor curses tearing his back to shreds.

Tonks, Goldstein, and the remaining aurors rallied as the death eater tide began to stem. Harry, however, had only eyes for the death eater, who he could tell was not normal. He was of the Inner Circle, but Harry had little time to question his sanity at once again fighting a top death eater leader; he was overwhelmed with anger.

"Well, Herakles," he said, smiling dangerously as he came to his feet, "you've certainly grown. I helped your bitch of a mother deliver you."

"I don't care!" he yelled. Reducto.

He batted it away. "What? A bit sore that I gave that bitch over there the "Dolohov Special?"

Harry unleashed everything he had, pumping out spells strong enough to knock over an elephant with its force. Not surprisingly, Dolohov (Harry could only assume that was his name) was able to counter with just as much force and ferocity, not uncommon for a high ranking death eater.

Faster and faster they dueled, destroying the room in brutal displays of magic. Harry saw everything and countered accordingly. He was in his element.

He noticed Hermione and Ginny staring at their duel in wonder. He noticed Ron take a kick and the opposing party snatch up a strange blue ball. He saw the remaining death eaters flee and then he saw his mark, the one that would end Dolohov.

Dolohov had overextended his arm to the right to block one of Harry's Incendios. The man was sweating profusely, a sure sign of tiredness, and Harry struck a Percutio into his left thigh. He had barely enough time to shout in pain before an overpowered Depulso pushed him twenty feet into the black portal and death.

Exhausted but determined, Harry rushed to Susan's side. If he was hoping for some kind of dramatic words before she died, he was to be sorely disappointed. She was already dead.

So were seven of the aurors. Goldstein had a large gash in his leg, to the point that he was struggling to stand. Ginny's arm was little better.

Thirty-five death eaters lay on the ground of the room: twenty-five dead and ten wounded or stunned. Compared to their casualties, they had done astounding, but the cost had been high.

Harry was barely holding back tears.

* * *

Amelia may have physically joined her troops on the battlefield, but her mind was elsewhere. Were Harry and Susan alright? Surely they should back by now. Maybe for once in their lives, they'd used a lick of sense and went home instead of sticking their heads in dangerous situations.

A Spider bounded across the defenses and chomped a hit-wizard in half and stabbed an auror before Amelia and a subordinate were able to take care of it with a couple of well-placed Reductos. This certainly counted as one of those situations.

"So," her hated comrade said as he seemingly materialzed from nowhere, idly brushing gore from his robes, "shall we begin?"

"I was ready five minutes ago!" she declared heatedly.

"Ah, my poor friend. You've always been so impetuous, perhaps, if you'd…"

Amelia had already jumped up; she didn't have time to listen to the teasing, she had a battle to win. A wise man once said: "The one who takes the initiative shall be victorious."

True or not, it had worked well for her in the past and the enemy was winded down.

"FORWARD!" she shouted with her wand pointed at the enemy.

Though hesitant at first, they joined her in her possibly suicidal charge. The forces of the dark were caught off guard. Many fled, but the vast majority countercharged.

The two forces crashed into each other with the force of a train. Amelia had just killed a spider and death eater grunt when she ran into her hated enemy, and the enemy of many a woman: her mother-in-law.

She seemed to have been waiting for her, twirling her wand idly as the auror at her feet tried desperately to shove his entrails back into the gaping hole that had been his stomach.

"How nice of you to finally join us Amy! I'm sure Auror Smith here wished you'd gotten here a bit earlier, eh, Tom?"

The man at her feet had grown so weak that he could no longer move. Amelia was unsure what to do. The poor man was too far gone, but she desperately wanted to help him…

"No matter, its just one less mudblood to taint the world," she said, obviously pleased that she'd done something to further her master's Grand Crusade. With a speed Amelia believed impossible, a knife inbedded itself in the auror's forehead.

Bellatrix held the other knife threateningly in her hand. "Don't look so green, Amelia. This is what you joined the aurors for, right? To get rid of baddies like me?"

Amelia knew she was only taunting, but it didn't stop the spell from leaving her lips. "Percutio!"

Bellatrix simply leaned to the right, leaving the spell to soar past her and slam into the back of one of her hit-wizards, who fell to the ground dead.

Amelia was horrified. Never had she killed one of her fellow law-enforcers on the job. Horrified or not, Amelia was still able to counter the entrail-expelling curse. She would not loose this battle over a mistake, no matter how horrible.

Around them, the battle raged on, but it was obvious the aurors had gained the upperhand and the enemy was close to breaking. It mattered little to Amelia. She and Bellatrix were the eye in the middle of the storm, the only place where the fighting was not brutal.

This was due to change. And change it did. They dueled faster than Amelia ever had before. Bellatrix outpaced her by miles and kept going. Only due to Bellatrix's apparent wish did she stay alive, though it seemed, only just.

The force of the Everbo slammed into her and forced her to drop her wand while sending her soaring several feet. Her dazed brain was only able to process Bellatrix walking up to her, a grim expression on her face.

"I thought you would be better Amy. I must say, I'm disappointed. I thought I'd finally met an equal. Apparently not."

She kissed the dazed Amelia on the forehead as if she was a small child, cackled maniacally, and apparated away. What was left of the death eater assault force followed.

* * *

Harry saw Amelia straight away. He had no idea what to do. Last night, during their…moment, she had said that she loved him. Perhaps it had been the passion of the moment, but Harry had believed it to be true. It was the first time he could remember someone telling him that they felt that way about him.

He didn't want to loose it. But he knew he would. Susan had died and it was his fault. He should've paid more attention to his surroundings. Perhaps he should've helped Susan instead of Hermione. Even as he thought it, he knew that he could never do that. Hermione may have been horrible to him, but he would never want anyone to die that was precious to him.

Back to the problem at hand. He had two choices. He could simply walk up to her brazenly and tell her the heartbreaking truth or skirt around the edges and make up something untruthful. Harry knew immediately what he should do.

He walked up, dragging his feet and was immediately ingulfed in a bear hug. "Oh thank Merlin! You're alive!" And then: "Where's Susan?"

Harry went rigid. This was going to be worse than he could've ever imagined. "We…I…She…she didn't make it."

Goldstein just happened to lay her body down next to them, as the spot they were currently at had conveniently been nominated as the graveyard.

Amelia looked between him and Susan's body with her mouth gaped like a fish. The implications finally started to set in. Her entire body quaked with anger and her eyes flashed dangerously. Harry felt it before he saw it; the massive amount of magical energy pouring out of her pores.

The slap echoed across the Atrium as Harry was thrown back twenty yards.

"YOU'RE WORSE THAN SCUM, HARRY POTTER! NO WONDER YOUR OWN FAMILY THREW YOU AWAY, YOU'RE HIPPOGRIF DUNG! YOU TOOK MY ONLY FAMILY AWAY FROM ME YOU, BASTARD, AND BECAUSE OF THAT, I'LL TAKE AWAY EVERYTHING THAT YOU LOVE!"

She fell to her knees and sobbed uncontrolably over Susan's body before apparating away.

Harry tenderly stood to his feet. He quickly realized that every eye in the room was on him. He didn't mind though. All his mind could process was how much he'd lost in a mere ten minutes.

He stared idly at Susan for he didn't know how long. Her hair was still as vibrant as it always was and it seemed she was merely sleeping, except for the blood around her mouth and the deep gash in her stomach. Susan Bones was gone from the world, taking her hopes, dreams and ambitions. How many more would this war take from him?

A gentle hand came down on his shoulder. Harry didn't jump.

"I hate to ask, lad, but we could use some hand cleaning up," Shacklebolt's voice was soft but demanding.

He understood immediately what the auror was doing. He wanted him to let go of Susan. There was nothing more that he could do. Despite an internal battle, Harry decided to follow him.

* * *

Amelia arrived home in a fury. She wanted Harry to feel pain, true pain like she was feeling. She was determined to make his trip to Azkaban feel like a walk in the park.

"Harry. Amelia. Is that you?" Sirius stumbled into the room, obviously more than a bit enebriated.

Amelia pounced before he could even gain his footing. She forced him to the wall and smashed her lips onto his in a desperate plea to end to the pain and inflict it on someone else. The fight in Sirius died quickly as he gave into lust.

In but a minute, they were ripping each others clothes off.

* * *

Voldemort could not help but smile. Everything had went perfectly. He had lost quite a few soldiers, much more than he would've liked, but it had been necessary.

He'd been trying to get the prophecy for months, but that had been near impossible with the Unspeakables snooping around. When he'd heard Dumbledore was sending some pawns to the Ministry, he'd set up an ambush.

Unfortunaetly, to do this, he'd had to launch the attack on the Ministry to get rid of the Unspeakables. In a stroke of luck, he'd managed to achieve all his objectives without a snag: he'd scared the Hippogrif dung out of some late duty workers at the Daily Prophet and retrieved the prophecy and learned of its contents.

Contents which made no sense. If he was indeed Potter's, or Black's, or Riddle's, or whatever he was calling himself these days, father and Bellatrix his mother, then how could the prophecy possibly be?

Bellatrix made mistakes, that was to be sure, but never had she intentionally defied him. And certainly had he never defied himself. Had Dumbledore gone mad? Or perhaps Harry was not the Child of Prophecy after all?

Once more he touched the prophecy ball, its light's dimmed due to its contents having already been accessed, and the voice of Sybil Trelawney penetrated the silence of the throne room.

 _The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives... the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies..._

In the end, it did not matter. Things had already being set in motion. Tomorrow was the day that he would crush his enemies. Tomorrow was the day he would overwhelm Hogwarts and punish those who had defied him. Tomorrow was the day the prophecy would become true.

* * *

 **A/N- Don't forget about the poll!**


	12. Chapter 12

A/N- Well these two weeks went by fast right? Oh wait, I wasn't waiting on an update…I apologize for those of you I told that I'd have it up on July 4…and then July 7...

Anyways, I need to give a special thanks to ArnoldDevillena for help on this chapter and the remaining ones as well. So give most of the plot credit to them.

Disclaimer: I don't own it.

* * *

 **C** **hapter 12-** **Hold the Line**

 _July 30_ _th_ _, 1996_

Amelia had always been a hopeless romantic. Her personal bookshelf in her room was home to many a cheesy romance novel. In her free time, what little of it she had, she could often be found reading said books with glee. Most of the books had the same plot: a woman snatches up a handsome but unperceptive man.

Never in any of the books she had read, had the woman cheated, not even entertained the thought of cheating. Yet it was in this moment that she realized that her life, which had taken a turn towards the novels, was no longer.

* * *

 _The_ _First World War was horrible to all parties involved. While not as dramatized as its successor, it was much worse_ _for those who fought_ _. The world had never seen a war of this scale; perhaps the world just wasn't ready._

 _Most muggles believe that the war began because of complex alliances and Austro-Hungarian imperialism. To that, they are correct. But wizardkind also fought the First World War, to protect not only themselves, but the muggles as well._

 _It is impossible to be a wizard and not know of Gellert Grindlewald. Back then, few did know of him, but the ones that did were high in the government._

 _H_ _e_ _began his movement in his home country of Austria-Hungary. They were_ _at first_ _reluctant to do so, but when Prince Ferdinand_ _,_ _the Crown Prince of the country and fellow_ _wizard, was_ _killed by muggles, the war ignited._

 _German, Italian, Austro-Hungarian, Bulgarian, and Ottoman wizards went to war against British, French, Russian, Greek, and Serbian wizards. Wizarding Italy did not change sides like the muggles_ _, despite the urgings of the British and French dignitaries._

 _The wizarding war was even more horrible than the muggle war. Forty percent of Europe's magical population was killed. Entrenchments were rarely used as the war was primarily a series of attacks between the two sides._

 _Engagements were fought mostly out of muggle sight in the mountains of Austria and the Balkans and the lightly populated regions of southern France. When Spain was brought into the war on the side of Grindelwald in 1915, the pressure on the Allies was almost unbearable. They were simply outnumbered in every conceivable way._

 _Meanwhile, Grindelwald decided it was more important to destroy the opposing wizards instead of the hated muggles, so while there were a few hundred unexplained muggle deaths in Austria, Germany, and Italy, they were mostly unmolested in their war efforts._

 _In Bulgaria and Spain, however, the slaughter was magnificently horrible. Bulgaria's armies were so hindered by their wizards that the did little to effect the muggle war effort. In Spain, so many muggles were slaughtered that the muggles very nearly discovered wizardkind; the Spanish wizards were forced to annihilate every member of the Spanish Intelligence Department._

 _In any case, back to the war effort. Commanding the small Pyrenees Command in Southern France was a young Wizengamot member. He might've been sent with the main Allied Wizard Expedition Force in the Balkans had he not have been cast out of his family just weeks before for supporting the war. As it was, the youthful Arcturus Black, of only fourteen years of age, found himself in command of a force that was facing the full might of the Spanish force._

 _It was at Perpignan that his force of about 1,000 wizards, approximately 650 French and 350 British, faced down the hoards of Spaniards. The Spanish were incompetent, their minds were full of glories of the past and their training was outdated; most sources agree that they were not even familiar with the killing curse._

 _It did not make the victory any less. The Spanish charged and were thoroughly throttled and demoralised. Black proved to be ruthless and pursued the Spaniards into their own country and crushed them soundly at the, if I may, stalely-named Battle of the Pyrenees._

 _These victories single-handedly took Spain out of the war, though the Spaniards would continue to prey upon the muggles and were probably a large factor in causing the Spanish Civil War in the late 1930s._

 _Heavily reinforced, Black led the command into Italy, fighting a string of battles in late 1915 and capturing the Italian magical capital south of Naples in 1916._

 _Noticing his success, the Allied High Command transferred him to the Serbian theatre, where he was unable to fix the situation, but he was able to successfully evade the army's complete destruction. He was, however, able to score a brilliant victory in the largest magical battle ever fought with over 40,000 wizards engaged at Thessaloniki._

 _Finally, the Allies had a general who could win. In the final stages of the war, Black led a handpicked army (his memoirs prove that he was nothing if not precise) against Grindelwald's fortress in the mountains of Austria. It is said that Black dueled Grindelwald in a battle of the ages._

 _Whatever the case may have been, it is certain that Black truly won the war and ended the most brutal war the wizarding world had ever seen. Over 48,000 wizards had been killed in the war and that again were physically scarred by it. For many, the mental scars would last long after they went home._

 _As for Black, he went home a hero. Some were blinded enough to call him the second Merlin. Whatever he may have been, when he arrived he was immediately reinstated into the Black family and became a political nightmare, his strategic mind being put to use in other efforts._

 _The search for Grindelwald did not last long. Even if it had, it is doubtful they would've found him. Holed up in Nuremberg, Grindelwald began to recruit..._

Harry shook his head as the book he had read earlier persisted in his mind. Now was certainly not the time. The enemy had effectively and easily brought down Hogwarts's wards and they were moving quickly into the valley that was directly across from them.

There were two ways into Hogwarts. A bridge on the north side and the overland route from Hogsmeade from the south side. Obviously, Voldemort was concentrating against the bridge and possibly both. But they were ready. Harry was ready, or so he thought.

He'd dutifully helped the aurors clean up the Atrium after the battle; it was being styled, quite dully as wizards tend to do, The Battle of the Ministry. It had taken him and the exhausted aurors and hitwizards two hours to clean it up.

The first bombshell of the morning fell then, when Hermione near bounded up to him and told him of the prophecy. To be honest, he really should've expected it, it did sort of make sense. Voldemort had done everything in his power since the day he was born to kill him. She didn't know what the words were, but he had a feeling that he wouldn't like it.

With the help of Shacklebolt, as this was an important development, they'd tracked down the prophecy in the Prophecy Records. Now he'd have to kill his father, if he could. It didn't bother him in the least. He was a horrible man and a sorry excuse for a person. The problem was that he had over forty years of magical education against him. True, he seemed to be equal with most of the Inner Circle, but Harry had a feeling his father was much more powerful.

The Tonks had been nice enough to allow him a room to stay the night. When they had came through the floo and Andromeda had heard the story, she was utterly furious, despite Harry's defence of his wife's actions. The elder Tonks' lived in a nice apartment in the middle of London and they fortunately had a spare bedroom.

He woke up to have the second bombshell thrown in his face by the junior Tonks. The morning edition of the Daily Prophet came every morning at eight o'clock. While usually only showing useless rumours, this morning's front page was not. Apparently, they had proof that Voldemort planned to attack Hogwarts, that day.

Truth or not, a rumour like that could not simply be brushed aside. A small force of aurors probed forward from the school and found the enemy not lurking far away, and in heavy force. Thus, Shacklebolt, temporary head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement as Amelia had yet to be reached, had called together everyone he could: Aurors, Hit-wizards, Unspeakables, Reserves, the Order, and with Harry's recommendation, the Legion.

Thousands answered the call and the floo connection soon became choked with the amount of people attempting to floo into the Headmaster's office.

Many were confidant. "This many aurors for a tiny death eater raid!?" Harry heard one particularly idiotic bloke say, "I knew the department was scared, but this is ridiculous!" He left his comrades to floo home.

Many others were not as confidant. When it seemed that the Leader of the Light, Albus Dumbledore, had fled before Voldemort, a handful of those with less courage fled. To those sheep, without Dumbledore, all was already lost. That was a mere trickle when the mighty host of Voldemort's army became visible from across the Black Lake.

By his estimate it didn't matter, they would've been outnumbered either way. His dreams about Voldemort were infrequent at best, but at Azkaban, Harry had seen numerous delegations succeed in bringing numerous tribes of dark creatures into alliance with him. Add that with the majority of the pureblood population of Britain, half of Slytherin house, half of Durmstrang's students, and thousands of magical mercenaries from around the world and Harry didn't doubt that it was the largest military force magical Britain had ever seen.

Those that remained would hold the line. They had to.

Rufus Scrimgeour, the Head of the Auror Office, arrived and at the insistence of Shacklebolt, sent him with about a third of the force to Hogsmeade.

Scrimgeour seemed to lack the notions of most others of using schoolchildren on the frontlines. In his words: "If they've a wand, they can fight. We cannot afford to be moralistic in times as dark as these."

Organisation had pretty much went out of the window and Harry decided that it would be best if he joined Shacklebolt in Hogsmeade. There was only one way across the Black Lake that Voldemort could possibly take: the bridge. Voldemort's best option was to go round the flank and attack Hogwarts in the rear through Hogsmeade.

Having been one of the earlier arrivals that morning, he had already assisted in moving the residents of Hogsmeade into the castle and the town that they prepared to defend was a ghost town.

Shacklebolt gave him command of the right flank with two platoons of legionnaires and another of hitwizards. While he knew Shacklebolt meant no disrespect, the left was traditionally the side where the less-experienced and less-important troops fought. Therefore, placing him on the right would mean he would also come up against the weaker death eaters.

The second-in-command of the Auror Office had given young Harry quite the challenge though. With only three platoons, two of which had been used rather roughly, he had barely a tenth of the total force, yet a third of the ground to cover.

Harry looked nervously at the watch of one of the hitwizards. So little had happened and yet so much time had passed. It was already three o'clock in the afternoon and he was exhausted. He was about to fight his second battle in twenty-four hours with only a few hours of sleep. Bloody grand.

It was hard to believe that the Battle of the Ministry had happened only that morning. Susan had died fourteen hours ago. He remembered how he'd comforted her after the loss of her friends. How he'd told her that he was sure the war would end before she knew it. He had been all too literal in that statement.

* * *

Minerva McGonagall watched as many of the statues for the school's defence were carelessly thrown to the side as if they were ragdolls. Many of the giants had fallen as well, but other magical creatures and death eaters took their place. They'd be over the bridge in moments. Where was Dumbledore?

"Professor McGonagall!"

She turned to see two of her favourite students from past years. Both had made quite a name for themselves. "Madam Bones, Mister Black, what can I help you with?"

She could not keep the anxiety from her voice. She was not keen on dying, despite being over sixty years of age.

She scolded herself for her choices in the past. She'd waited too long and both of the men she had loved were dead. She should have had children, multitudes of them, but she'd been barmy. So she'd adapted. The children of Hogwarts were now her children. No, she did not want to die, but like any mother, she would die for any of her children.

She blinked as she realized they'd just been speaking to her. "I'm sorry, what did you say?"

Amelia looked absolutely furious, but Sirius took a deep breath and spoke again: "Have you seen Harry?"

"Harry? Harry Potter?" she gasped. "No I haven't seen him since...well, I'm sure you remember, Mister Black," she finished with a glare.

She'd been insistent from the beginning that Harry could never do something like that, but it seemed that her voice was not enough to persuade anyone, not even his own godfather.

Sirius had the decency to look down. McGonagall was still ashamed. She had raised him better than this.

"Not Harry Potter. His name is Herakles Black; goes by Harry for short," Amelia interjected. "He's about medium height with black hair and violet eyes."

McGonagall was suspicious; another Black?

"Minerva!" someone called. She glanced out of the corner of her eye and saw Scrimgeour. "We need everyone to help hold the bridge."

McGonagall nodded solemnly; she was certain that her time on this earth was up. Turning back to her children, she told them, "I haven't seen him around here, but he could be in Hogsmeade."

She rushed to the bridge, knowing that she would not survive to see her children again.

* * *

Amelia had a feeling that Harry was in Hogsmeade. She wanted to go to him; no, needed to. But she imagined that he'd want to stay very far away from them.

But looking at the situation, she was obviously needed more here. Scrimgeour might be a tough, experienced soldier, but he had never been the best at strategy, or even really, fighting. The aurors and various soldiers were disorganised and desperate for a leader to take charge.

A pop next to her startled her out of her thoughts. A small house elf, one of the smallest she had ever witnessed, appeared next to her. Its rags hung around its small frame as it peered nervously up at Amelia.

"Master Harry asks Dobby to give this to you."

Amelia snatched it out of the poor elf's hands, startling it so much it popped away. It was a piece of parchment perhaps, folded in half. She opened it violently, knowing it was from her Harry, and ripped the page a little.

What she saw, however, made her drop to her knees.

Sirius quickly rushed to her. "What's wrong!?"

She sullenly handed Sirius the paper and he gasped. It was the second page of this morning's Daily Prophet with all the horrible information that it entailed...and Harry's wedding ring.

Amelia turned on Sirius. "Go to Hogsmeade and find Harry. Bring him to me."

Sirius, though still depressed, replied with a bit of sass, "Why do I have to go get him!?"

Amelia pointed to the Hogwarts side of the bridge, where an explosion landed right in the middle of a group of hitwizards, blowing them in every direction. "That's why. Make sure Harry doesn't do anything stupid. Bring him back to me. I'll take care of this."

Amelia strode off to the battlefield, her expression hardening with every step. This was it, Voldemort's final play. If they didn't stop him here, it was over. 'Harry, please come back to me...'

She couldn't let the dream come to fruition...

At first, she hadn't thought it was a real dream. Susan was dead. And yet, she was standing right in front of her. And she looked pissed. As pissed as only a Bones could be pissed.

"Susan?" Amelia gasped. She didn't hope to dare believe, but...

They embraced but Susan did not unstiffen as she usually did. "Auntie, what have you done?" she whispered horrified.

Amelia broke the embrace and took a step back. "You expect me to forgive him? After what he did to you?"

Now Susan's expression was horrified. "Auntie...he loves you! What happened to me was because of my own insistence to fight!" Her voice became shriller and shriller as she became more upset.

"Susan! How could he love me when he's taken you from me? He promised with his life that he would never let you die. He lied!"

Susan shook her head. Her aunt was a stubborn one, that was for sure, but Death had told her to use any means necessary. Even the ability to show the future.

"Look here, auntie," she said as she waved her hand and a screen shimmered into existence.

Amelia had little time to ponder how Susan had gained the power of Conjury, as she looked upon the scene. Several death eaters lay dead nearby and it seemed that the battle had been won. Bellatrix was dead also, presumably by Amelia's wand. Voldemort and Dumbledore were both dead, but Harry's body lay broken and bloody as she and Sirius cradled him in their arms.

"Amelia," he spoke with a hint of a pained smile. "I'm sorry I wasn't the husband you deserved."

Turning to Sirius, he laughed weakly, "Good catch, Sirius. Treat her right."

And then realising that his time was up, he said to both, "I love you."

And he was gone. The screen passed out of existence.

"What...?"

"Auntie this is not a 'what if.' If you do not stray from the path that you and Sirius are walking, it will happen."

A gust of wind blew and Susan turned into sand. Amelia called out, but she was gone and she had found herself awake next to the man she didn't love.

Sirius had had a similar dream it seemed, and they searched every possible place. He wasn't in the manor or the Ministry of which the Auror Office was empty. Apparating to the Tonks' apartment provided no answers, until Amelia decided to break in, and found the couch made up.

It was already quite late in the day by that point; a little past three in the afternoon when they had determined that Harry must be at Hogwarts, preparing for the final battle.

"Madam Bones!"

Amelia smirked to herself. Even without her battle robes, she was still recognisable.

Scrimgeour ran up to her with a nasty cut on his arm. "They've taken the bridge, Madam. We're whipped! I've ordered a withdrawal."

"You what!? Scrimgeour, reverse that order and get your men back into the battle!"

Amelia managed to get most of the soldiers to stop in front of the courtyard. "Where are you going!? The battle is there, you cowards!" she roared.

One of the frightened aurors yelled out, "They're awful thick in there, though, Madam."

In a rage, Amelia thundered, "That's the place to kill them, dammit, where they are the thickest!"

"Now back into the fight! Every one of ya', FORWARD!"

"And you!" Amelia roared, turning on Scrimgeour, "You know how you've always wanted kids?" Scrimgeour gave a timid nod. "I'll make sure you don't if you order another retreat again!"

Scrimgeour nodded and rushed off. Turning then on some stragglers, she commanded, "I want that bridge decimated with reductos on three!"

* * *

Neville pondered how he'd found himself in this situation. Just like the rest of the army, he'd charged on Madam Bones' order, except he'd gotten carried away and ran straight through the enemy to the bridge.

Before Neville could think more on the subject, a hail of reductos battered the bridge and the giant and small horde of spiders that was rushing across fell to their deaths far below. Through the debris, Neville could barely make out the signature billowing robes of his Potions Master.

"P-professor Snape?"

The frightening skull mask turned in his direction and simply acknowledged him. "Longbottom."

"You're a death eater?" There had been rumours, of course, and while Neville had never liked Snape, he hadn't believed them.

"There are many things you don't understand." Snape turned to walk towards the rapidly concluding fight.

"There's one thing you don't understand, Professor." Snape turned around to look at him. "I won't let you hurt my friends."

"Stupefy!"

Fast as lightning, Snape pulled out his wand and knocked it away.

Twirling his wand in a circle, Neville cast an Incendio. He had really been training hard these past few months as more and more students disappeared, and he was rather impressed with his casting speed. It was not fast enough for Snape.

An Aguamenti met the Incendio halfway and extinguished it. Neville was not to be cowed and he was quick to shoot off an Expelliarmus.

Snape seemed to be expecting this and rebounded it. Neville rapidly tried to out up a shield charm, "Protego!", but his wand only shot off a bit of silver sparks and the disarming charm caught him right in the chest.

He had lost. He had always known he was a sorry wizard. Well, at least he had died for a noble cause.

Snape walked calmly over to him, a wand in each hand. Neville closed his eyes tight and hoped that Snape would have the decency to get it over with quickly.

"Get up, Longbottom." Neville's eyes shot open and he stared at the butt-end of his wand, held firmly in Snake's grasp in an inviting nature.

"You better learn to use this Longbottom if you want to survive. Not all of the Dark Lord's followers are as generous as I."

He threw his mask on the ground and sucked in a deep breath of the humid air. "Well?" he asked condescendingly. Do you plan on gawking all afternoon, or do you want to get out of no-mans-land?"

There was the Snape he remembered.

* * *

Harry still wasn't entirely sure how to command. He was young, incompetent, and had never really excelled in chess like Ron had. Thus, he found himself trying to copy manoeuvers from _A History of Magical Warfare_. Finding that magical warfare had changed little since the Elizabethan era, he could only hope that he could make an unique fighting style.

Deciding that it would be best to know exactly when the enemy would begin their attack, he took a squad of aurors and a squad of legionnaires and deployed a skirmish line on the other side of the field that separated Hogsmeade from the Shrieking Shack.

There they had a perfect view of the eastern edge of the Forbidden Forest. He sent a relay to Shacklebolt, by way of a quickly scribbled letter and a borrowed owl, of the movement and the wizened Auror not only approved of it, but implemented it himself.

Harry paced around with anticipation, making both himself and the twelve legionnaires and aurors nearest him nervous.

"Wouldn't it be best if we weren't several hundred metres away from the rest of the company, sir?" asked the lieutenant commanding the aurors with a special emphasis on "sir", leaving no doubt in Harry's mind just what the 35 year old man thought of being ordered around by a child of 15.

"Our visibility is hampered by the Shrieking Shack back at Hogsmeade. Here we'll know exactly when the enemy comes and they won't be able to sneak up on us," Harry replied, feeling quite happy about his vocabulary. Between Hermione and McGonagall forcing him to reword his essays, he'd gained a powerful plethora of words.

"If we don't die first," one of the younger privates said scoffing. "Why do all of us need to be out here anyways?"

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose. It was like he was babysitting or something. "The more of us there are, the better chance we have of all of us getting out of here alive. Not to mention just how thin we have to spread out to make sure the enemy doesn't outflank us through the forest."

The forest curved around the field that surrounded the Shrieking Shack and went a ways around the small village, providing excellent cover for sneak attacks.

The lieutenant seemed to think about it, but the private continued on grumbling.

It was only moments later that the unmistakable sound of footsteps reached them; thousands of them. Everyone stiffened. They weren't in sight yet, but the steps grew louder with each passing second. And just like he thought, there were footsteps far off to the right; the death eaters were certainly trying to flank them.

"Vane!" called Harry. The young thirteen year old rushed over. Despite being a pureblood, she was thoroughly against Voldemort, mostly due to some sort of affection for him that he couldn't conceive, and a quick runner.

"Go back and tell them not to fire until we're off the hill. Then light it up like Christmas."

"Yessir! Give 'em hell for me!" she yelled as she darted away.

Harry certainly planned on it. "Lieutenant, keep them from flanking us for a few minutes. I'll take care of the ones in our front."

"Whatever," he said grumpily. But then in a bout of kindness and a grudging respect in Shacklebolt's ability to pick out leaders, he said, "Take care, kid."

Turning back to the nervous legionnaires, Harry told them, "It's really quite simple. As soon as you see them, hit them with whatever you've got. Then run a short distance and do the same. When we get within distance of the main line, you just foot it there. Make sense?"

He only received a couple of nods and he was afraid that he had already failed. But he had underestimated the legionnaires, something the enemy had done countless times. They had executed the manoeuvre perfectly, stopping eight times to blast the incoming hoards with reductos.

Both parties had made it back relatively unscathed and had only a moment to catch a breather before Voldemort's army slammed into them.

Harry ordered the lieutenant, who had successfully survived his previous task, to turn his Auror platoon so that it was facing the forest, creating a "L" shape.

For thirty minutes, things went well. The customary yells of the dying and those of the fiercely engaged mixed with the sounds of explosions to produce a terrible howl that could be heard all along the line.

An Incendio hit the Auror next to him and he fell to the ground screaming. 'Merlin! It's way to hot to be using fire curses!' he thought, as he dosed his comrade with an Aguamenti. He quickly returned to his gruesome profession.

They came on with a fearsome shout and Harry and his soldiers cut them down. To their credit, they were not lacking in bravery and many fell dead on the other side of the trenches. More filled their places.

Nor were the death eaters the only ones taking losses. There had been fifty-one legionnaires when this fight had started and now they could barely muster thirty. Many had been carried off the frontlines to the rear makeshift hospitals. In comparison, the aurors hadn't even lost a dozen, due to having far fewer enemies.

At this point in the action, that was about to change. Having mostly failed in their frontal attacks, they would try to outflank them. Harry could just make out a group running through the forest.

"Lieutenant, I don't care how you do it, but I need you to clean out the right flank," yelled Harry, pointing out the rapidly deteriorating situation on the right.

The lieutenant sighed. "I'll certainly try." And with that he was off.

Harry and a handful of legionnaires took over the position that had once been occupied by an entire Auror platoon and attempted to hold it for as long as possible. There were suddenly quite a few more enemies here as they tried to slither around the village.

"Reducto!" he shouted, hoping he'd catch approaching mass of death eaters by surprise.

Several were quick enough to put up shield charms, several jumped out of harm's way, and several more shot spells into the sky, attempting to counter it. Each missed and five men were at least blown down by the spell.

The entire squad of legionnaires opened up then, pelting the ground around the death eaters with everything from Stupefys to Reductors. After dealing with the barrage for a moment and then replying with their own curses, they finally realized that being out in the open was a horrible idea, wizard or not, and they made a mad dash for the entrenchments.

Fifteen death eaters against four young legionnaires in close quarters fighting. No this was not a good place to be at all.

Harry disarmed one as soon as he bounded over the fortifications and easily slit his throat with a quick cutting curse. Another one snarled at what he did, and so was met with a Reductor to the face.

The next two were different, obviously commanders, and though not quite Inner Circle material, they both managed to block his first strike. Instead of counterattacking as he expected, one of them asked sneering, "Herakles Black, right?"

Harry gave a cautious nod.

"Here," he said, throwing something on the ground at his feet. "The Dark Lord wanted this delivered to you."

Both wands were still pointing menacingly at him and noticing his gaze, they moved their hands slowly to their sides. "Go ahead, lad, I still plan on killing ya, but not until after the Dark Lord's orders have been met."

Unsure of what exactly to do and finding his comrades still locked on battles of their own, he figured he should play along. Picking it up, he found it was that day's edition of the Daily Prophet. Of course, obviously he'd already read the front page or he wouldn't be here, so he flipped to the second page.

There was a picture of a rather scantily clad Amelia quickly dressing as she tried to not awake her partner who was sleeping in the bed. Wait...since when had he begun looking like Sirius? The title read:

 _As an upstanding member of British wizarding society, I find myself appalled at the audacity of some of the higher members of our government. While I wholefully admit that I am not privy to all the information, like most of our faithful readers probably already know, there was quite a battle fought in the Ministry Atrium this morning. (More on The Battle of the Ministry on Page 3.) Many aurors can attest that after the battle, a black-haired teen, now identified as Herakles Black, received quite the tongue-lashing from the esteemed Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement: Amelia Black nee Bones._

 _For many, this seems irrelevant to our good Law Enforcement Head's reputation. What many of us do not know is that Lady Black was recently wed to Lord Herakles Black, Head of the House of Potter and Scion to the House of Black. And yet, with a useful tip, I found myself in front of this scene: the esteemed Lady Black, Head of the House of Bones, in bed with a partner that is not her husband._

Harry stopped reading. Since the tournament, he'd determined that the Daily Prophet was nothing but a bunch of lies. Why, now, did he feel like it was true?

"And why exactly did he send this? Did Voldemort just want to show off his advanced forgery skills?"

Death eater 1 gave a vicious snarl and shot off an Avada Kedavra. In a bout of sheer luck, Harry managed to throw the newspaper into the killing curse, negating it, but not before ripping out the second page.

He was unable to think up a counterattack as understandably, his mind was elsewhere. 'She wouldn't...couldn't, we shagged for goodness sakes!'

'She hates me. She made that perfectly clear in the Atrium last night.'

Harry regained focus in time to see the Percutio hit him in the side. He dropped as excruciating pain rippled through the left part of his torso. Despite the excruciating pain with every breath and movement, Harry blocked an Expelliarmus and a Stupefy and took cover behind the nearest building.

Unfortunately, his thoughts resumed too. 'But Sirius would never...'

'Get over yourself, you've seen how Sirius looks at her!' The voice sounded surprisingly like Voldemort. As he began to loose the argument, for the first time since Azkaban, Harry was angry.

'H-How dare they!?' He looked again at the newspaper article. How long had they been doing this?

"Dobby," he called through clenched teeth. The small, likeable house elf appeared in an instant.

"What can Dobby do for Master Harry?" he asked, having Harry temporarily wonder if Dobby knew his secret.

Harry numbly pulled off his ring. He'd only had the silver band for a little more than a month and he felt like a part of himself was going with it. He placed it inside the newspaper and handed it to Dobby. "Take this to Madam Bones," he said, his words laced with spite.

Dobby quickly popped away, leaving a brooding Harry by himself. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and tried to compose himself. To his right and front, the intensity of the fight was still heard. To the left, it sounded like a footrace was going on.

So that was it then. The left had been overwhelmed and was in full retreat. If they didn't want to be cut off and captured, or worse, they'd have to do the same.

He found the two death eaters who had given him the newspaper on the other side of the building and easily despatched them with a couple of Percutios. One of the legionnaires was dead, one wounded, and the other was desperately trying to take cover whilst trying to save her wounded friend.

"Go tell the Aurors that we have to fall back, so they need to get out of there."

"But," she started to argue, looking at her friend.

"Don't worry, I'll take care of him. I give you my word. But give me your word that you'll get those aurors out of there."

She nodded, but only ever so slightly, and dashed off, leaving the fate of the person she'd always cared about to Harry.

'Now...how the hell are the rest of us going to get out of here?'

* * *

Due to his stint in Azkaban, Sirius was accustomed to bad dreams. But he never could've dreamed up the horror of James and Lily yelling at him for betraying their son.

They were right of course. His time with Amelia had passed, but once, she had been his. The contract had been instituted his fifth year. Amelia had been a studious student a year older and had cared little for his careless attitude. By their seventh year, Amelia had finally came to terms with it and they spent a happy couple of years together before the what's explosive ending sent them in different directions, literally.

With him incarcerated and Regulus dead, the contract had become null. But it had been Amelia whom had tamed the animal inside him that insisted on relieving the pain his family inflicted upon through the company of women.

But still, it did not matter. True, he had been inebriated (though, honestly, he probably would've done so anyways) but he could never truly forgive himself for harming Harry in such a way.

As he clawed his way through the Whomping Willow's passageway, he could only hope that Harry would be more forgiving than he would be in this situation.

* * *

Tamera Powers had known that joining the aurors was a bad idea. Only three days after joining, she'd been thrown into her first battle, where both her sergeant and best friend had been killed in moments. She'd fought and survived every major battle, but she suddenly felt she wouldn't make it out of this one.

"Hold 'em off!" the lieutenant yelled over the screams. Only a second later, a fell dead from the killing curse.

They had stepped into the hornet's nest and they had awakened the horde. Reductos tore up the ground so bad that the leaves were never stationary. Trees wilted as they were struck with Avada Kedavras. Incendios and Fiendfyres destroyed the forest and aurors alike as they fleed from the destructive power.

'Bugger this!' she thought and as she ran back towards Hogsmeade as fast as she could.

She quickly realized that they were surrounded when she near ran into a death eater only a couple hundred metres to the rear. He had his wand trained on her in an instant and she had no choice but to surrender.

He smirked as she slowly dropped her wand. Everyone knew that capture, especially for an fit, pureblood female like her, was worse than death.

Not too far away, she saw a young girl, probably one of those bloody legionnaires, in the same situation. This would be so much more unpleasant for the poor girl.

* * *

"Look there!" Kingsley shouted the throngs of retreating hitwizards and aurors, "There stands Black like a stone wall! Rally behind the Legionnaires!"

The rout stopped as the men realized that only a dozen of mere students were still fighting for their lives, whilst they had decided that their courage had ran out for the day. They quickly did rally and Kingsley was able to launch a counter-charge.

Without the creature support that they had expected to have and having suffered fearful losses in the attack, the mercenaries and death eaters retreated back into the forest.

The Battle of Hogsmeade had concluded. 400 aurors and hitwizards were dead and half that were wounded. The fifty aurors that had been with the right flank were unaccounted for and Kingsley could only assume that they were all dead.

He couldn't be sure for certain but the enemy had probably suffered quadruple that number slain on the field.

* * *

 **A/N- Well, I can't exactly take credit for some of those quotes.**

" **That's the place to kill them, dammit, where they are the thickest!** **" was spoken by Major General John Logan at the Battle of Atlanta I believe but I'm not sure about that one.**

 **And I think everyone who has at least heard of the American Civil War knows of: "There stands Jackson like a stone wall! Rally behind the Virginians!" -spoken by Brigadier General Barnard Bee at First Manassas.**

 **Sorry, what can I say, I'm a military history buff.**

 **By the way, just thought that I'd throw it in there that I only use canon characters. For example, Tamera Powers is a real person in Harry Potter's world. Its just that I actually hate OCs (despite my first story being exactly about that).**

 **Anyways, thanks for reading. Be sure to review!**


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N- Hey guys. Not much I want to say, just that I've decided that I'm going to kind of split the story. Some of you may have noticed that I switched the second category to Romance on this story. Not really important to my point, and I'm kinda wondering why I even said that, but anyways, I'm going to post a new story called Just Sad Version 2. It's not technically a reboot though. It starts after Chapter 11, though you won't see a whole lot of changes till Chapter 13. It'll be decidedly more brutal and I'll try to have it up before I go to bed tonight.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own it.**

* * *

 **Chapter 13- Nightmares**

 _July 30, 1996, 6:00 p.m._

Harry was glad for the mindless task. It allowed him to keep his thoughts from a more depressed route. The town of Hogsmeade had suffered terribly from the onslaught and those who had survived or were not helping with the dead and wounded found themselves fighting a less fierce enemy (at least for wizard-kind): fire.

As he and Cho Chang saved what was once that horrible place Madam Puddifoots from destruction, his mind focused solely on the task. That is, until he remembered the poor lad that had died in his arms not even an hour ago. He'd seen the boy around; he was a Ravenclaw, in the class below him. His name was Demetrius Farrell and Harry would make sure he would not be forgotten for his sacrifice.

Hogsmeade was quite close to the castle, so when the explosions increased there, it could be heard and seen easily from the village. Still, Shacklebolt was reluctant to leave the village undefended, especially since it was his home.

Despite Shacklebolt's sentimental values, Harry realized that there was a practical reason as well: it would be difficult to maneuver all the wounded and would be impractical considering it would out them in harm's way.

"Harry!"

He knew the voice, unfortunately, he didn't care too much for that particular person right now.

"I've looked all over here for you, pup. I feared the worst. Are you alright?"

If Sirius thought that he could distract him with cute nicknames and worry, he had another thing coming. He would never forgive them.

With the flames put out, Harry and Cho walked away, leaving an increasingly depressed Sirius behind. Coming to a decision, he chased after them.

"Harry, please, look at me, I'm sorry. I honestly don't even remember; I'd been drinking, you see…" Sirius stopped as he realised that Harry was doing his upmost to ignore him. "Harry, I…"

"Is this supposed to make me feel better?" Harry interrupted to ask. He still looked straight forward, but Sirius was ecstatic that he'd at least responded.

"Well…"

"That my godfather, the one I look up to most in this world, was so drunk that he didn't realise he was fucking my wife!" Harry raged. He'd tried to keep it in; he really had, but he was just utterly furious with everything.

Cho looked utterly uncomfortable but continued to stand by her commander.

Harry's eyes were trained on him now. It took him a minute to realise that those were not Lily's eyes, they were Bellatrix's. This was not James, who would quickly loose his anger after he got even, or Lily, who had an explosion every time she was mad, but was quick to cool.

"Stay away from me, Black. I _will_ kill you." He said it so menacingly that Sirius actually took a step back.

"Black!"

Both Harry and Sirius turned to the familiar lynx patronus. "The entire army is attacking them at Hogwarts. The Courtyard is overrun and they're highly outnumbered. Take anyone you can find, I know it isn't much, and get over there and help Amelia."

Harry grimaced at the mention of both his ex-wife's name and the fact that they'd already been overwhelmed. It was no doubt that at that moment, many of his friends were fighting for their lives.

He turned to Cho and said, without even a hint of anger, "Gather those who can still fight."

* * *

Sirius charged into the courtyard after Harry. He sucked in a deep breath.

'This isn't war. It's slaughter!'

There was no organization left between either army; there was just a mass of soldiers having their own individual battles to stay alive. It was a death trap, where spells friendly or not, killed everything in sight.

Those who could, carried themselves to the rear. For most of them, they lay on the ground and hoped that they would be spared by the stray spells.

Harry had not faltered at the sight and had dived into the battle without delay, leaving Sirius curious of his whereabouts. How was he supposed to guard Harry in this cesspool of destruction anyhow?

A scream diverted his attention, from a voice he knew all to well, but had never thought he'd hear it in this context. Only a few yards away, a bloodied Professor McGonagall desperately tried to crawl away from a victorious death eater bastard. Sirius identified him immediately; his family's platinum blonde hair was an oddity, even amongst wizards.

Sirius rushed in front of McGonagall to protect her. "Malfoy," he growled.

"Ah…the mutt shows himself. I'm quite surprised you'd even show your face here, especially after this morning's Daily Prophet," he taunted.

Sirius took the bait. He launched a reductor and an Incendio, which were easily stopped by Lucius's Protego. Sirius was unable to dodge his counterattack and was blown off his feet by a banishing charm.

As Sirius scrambled to his feet, the senior Malfoy attempted to keep up the pressure with a leg-locker curse, but Sirius managed to dodge by rolling out of the way.

The two men took a short break as they glared at each other. Sirius was out of breath (he hadn't had quite as much experience with battling as Harry since escaping hell) and was thankful for the respite, whilst Malfoy seemed to be sizing up his opponent and the situation for the best way to attack his enemy.

If Sirius had been any less an Auror and Malfoy more of a Slytherin, Sirius would've missed the slight twitch of his hand as he prepared to utter a spell. As it was, just as Malfoy turned on McGonagall, aiming to distract Sirius enough to win, or at least escape with his life, a Percutio slammed into his right shoulder, sending him to the ground.

Sirius checked to make sure that his favourite professor was not hurt too badly, in which she insisted she was not despite the near constant grimace that adorned her face, and by the time he looked up, Malfoy had slithered away.

* * *

When Andromeda had awoken this morning, she had expected to be enjoying teatime right now, not being engaged in a duel to the death with her younger sister.

"Narcissa! This is not you; end this madness!" she pleaded as she blocked an unknown spell.

"Andromeda," she replied, "Look around you! Are the mudbloods worth all this death and destruction? Purebloods fighting purebloods! Preposterous! I assure you that the Dark Lord is most gracious and forgiving and will look past the taint that scum has had upon your person."

Andromeda clenched her eyes tight as she realized that her sister was so fanatical to You-Know-Who that she could not be reasoned with. Perhaps she was not the same person that she had been nearly twenty-five years ago when they had parted.

"Cissy!" she cried, in her last attempt to sway her sister, "Can you not see that this is wrong? Muggleborns are wizards too; they were given the gift of magic when they were born just like us."

"That is not true!" she fumed. "They've no right to that magic!"

Andromeda scoffed. "Do you even hear yourself? Merlin himself was a muggleborn! Have you become that entitled?"

Narcissa shook her head as if to be rid of all the garbage she was spewing. "I have no time for your lies, sister. Either join us or die here, by my wand."

Andromeda slid into a dueling stance. "I will gladly accept the latter, dearest sister."

To Andromeda's surprise, her younger sister's eye's filled with tears. Nevertheless, she stepped into the traditional Black dueling stance. "Then I shall rid you quickly from this earth, not for your sake, but for mine."

A shoddily cast Percutio was flung her way, but Andromeda easily cancelled it with a Protego charm.

"You're awfully confident for a woman who failed to receive her Defense Against the Dark Arts OWL, Cissy," she simply stated.

Andromeda knew that neither of them held the advantage. Her sister could name every charm to enhance appearances and their properties, but knew few hexes and even fewer curses. Unfortunately, Andromeda, whilst having passed her OWL for DADA, held a profession in which spellwork was unnecessary and had not used any spells in quite some time.

"Reducto!" they shouted simultaneously.

* * *

Hermione could simply not fathom the destruction around her. All around her, people she had known and loved for years were fighting for their lives. Ron had promised to stay by her side, but he had gotten carried away fighting a werewolf. The odd duo of Neville Longbottom and Professor Snape were holding off a trio of bloodthirsty death eaters. Even Professor Vector was coordinating the defense against the hundred or so Dementors that flew menacingly overhead.

McGonagall had called together the Order and ordered them to Hogwarts. Molly Weasley had ordered them to stay, especially after their stint last night, and to leave the job of fighting to the adults. She'd put all sorts of charms on the floo, baring anyone's use unless they were above the age of eighteen. Fortunately, Luna Lovegood's house was barely a kilometer away.

Hermione was just finishing up with a mercenary from France, she had concluded due to his accent, with a Reductor, when Harry ran by.

"Harry!" she called out frantically.

He turned around and nonchalantly blocked a wayward Percutio. "Hermione! What are you doing here? This is no place for you!"

She was momentarily surprised by his concern, but she finally gripped her resolve and shook her head vigorously. "You and I both know that we have to stop Voldemort here. I'll help you in any way, Harry."

Harry stared at her for a second and for the briefest of moments, there was no one else in the world. She determined that she liked Harry's new violet eyes better.

Harry glanced to the side as if breaking himself from the moment. "Don't die on me, Hermione."

And then he was gone, lost in a sea of destruction. Hermione's head was in the clouds. Did she...actually have feelings for the raven-haired teen? No, it couldn't be…she was in a pseudo-relationship with Ron, but…

Perhaps it was just adoration with a touch of mystery. She wasn't shallow enough to admit to herself that he was certainly more attractive now. But she felt like he was a completely different person now and she wanted to know the new Harry.

"Hermione Granger." Her name was said without contempt but without kindness either. She realised her foolish mistake of becoming distracted in a place where one mistake could mean death.

She whipped around with her wand out and faced two unfamiliar identical girls. "Do I know you?" she asked, slightly lowering her wand. They couldn't be much older than 13.

"And so…Gryffindor's resident bookworm…all alone."

Hermione's grip on her wand tightened. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I think the Dark Lord would be most pleased with her death, Flora."

"Yes, I agree, Hestia," Flora said.

Hermione recognised them then: Flora and Hestia Carrow, third year Slytherins. Them speaking about her as if she wasn't there only made the situation that much more creepy.

While she'd done well against the random death eater, it had taken her much too long, proving that her practical skills were mediocre. All around her, brilliant duels were taking place, each one faster, stronger, and more powerful than hers could even hope to be.

There was no one around to help and she doubted that anyone would think too much of two rather small girls. She would think the same if she hadn't looked into their eyes, how they glowed with the prospect of her death by their wands.

Hermione decided on a preemptive strike. She knew multitudes of spells and her first mistake was pondering on which one to use. She had lost her chance.

Hestia cast a piercing charm and the Gryffindor had barely enough time to put up a Protego. Looking at the crack where the spell had hit, Hermione saw that the Carrows meant business. If she had been a second slower, it would've went right between her eyes.

And so, the proclaimed brightest witch of her age found herself pinned against two younger, but apparently powerful, sisters in a fast-paced duel.

For the most part, the mini-battle was one-sided. Being outnumbered, Hermione could really only hide behind her shield charm and use hit-and-run tactics.

Once, she was hit by a leg-locker curse, but managed to temporarily blind the Carrows with a Lumos. The counter curse was quick to come, but with that trick out of the hat, she never really did find the advantage again.

The sun was only just beginning to set when the Everbo slammed into her leg, easily breaking it. She fell over, completely exhausted and unable to continue.

Despite her seemingly imminent death, Hermione was proud of herself. She had no clue of how long the fray had lasted, but she had fought two very talented witches with loads of magical talent, for quite some time and if the immense amount of perspiration that was streaming down their faces was any indication, she'd given them quite the challenge.

She looked up at the sunset as the Carrows walked up to her, preparing their final curse. Strange that of all the things her mind could've conjured up in her final moment, it brought up Harry.

How he'd bravely jumped of the troll's back to save her: a geeky girl that he hardly knew. How she'd woken up after a long slumber in second year and found that Harry had, quite carelessly she'd admit, went after the beast that had turned her to stone and slain it. How she and him had truly connected by going back in time and saving both him and his godfather from Dementors. How she had been the only one he could rely on when his name was pulled out of the Goblet of Fire and the whole school had turned against him.

Sadly, she realised that these were the stories she should be telling their children. The ones that perhaps they could've had if she hadn't have turned against him.

Hestia pointed her wand at Hermione's forehead. "You were a worthy opponent, Granger. Perhaps if you had been made of purer blood, you would've even bested us," she said, acknowledging the variety and flexibility that the Gryffindor had shown with her spellwork.

Hermione gripped her wand as she prepared to fight back, motivated by her thoughts, when she stopped. 'Would it even matter? Harry is married now…to that bitch, Amelia.'

Yes, she'd read the Prophet; she knew it was mostly rubbish, but it was information.

Amelia couldn't care less for the boy that would selflessly throw himself into danger to save anyone. Unfortunately, she knew Harry. She was sure he was angry, unbelievably angry, furious even. However, she had seen how nervous he had been when he was going to tell Amelia about Susan; it was like he was afraid of loosing a loved one. He loved Amelia, truly loved her. If that was the case, Harry wouldn't stop loving her, that's just the way he was.

A single tear slipped from her eye as she understood that it didn't matter if she fought back or not. She closed her eyes as she submitted to her fate.

"Avada…"

"Everbo, Everbo!"

The Carrow twins were sent sprawling and Luna Lovegood stepped between her and them. In her dreamy voice she spoke, "Hermione, let us face them together. We may not be sisters, but I believe we will work well together."

Hermione looked strangely at the girl but joined her side, despite the horrible pain in her chest every time she breathed. She would fight; she would fight for her life and she would fight for Harry, Amelia be damned.

* * *

George Weasley could do little as the green light of the killing curse soared towards him. It would seem that his jokes were over and he would join his brother Fred, who lay dead beside him.

Through the corner of his eye, he could just make out a boy with horrified violet eyes, desperately attempting to banish a mercenary into the incoming light.

George Weasley died instantly.

* * *

Fred and George had abandoned him like the rest of them, but they didn't deserve to die. They had been like the older brothers he'd never had to him.

He would've gotten here sooner, but it had looked like they were dealing with the Lestrange brothers quite nicely (they launched a dungbomb and had managed to eliminate Rabastan rather easily) so he got into a scrape with a couple of spiders. Obviously, the situation had worsened quite a bit.

But what really had Harry horrified was that Rodolphus was no longer looking like a Dementor victim. As he moved to challenge him, Rodolphus seemed to notice his discomfort.

"Do see now the power of the Dark Lord, Herakles? This is a merely a small part of his power."

Harry could not stop his mouth from falling open. Did Voldemort truly hold the power to so easily bypass insanity?

"This, Herakles, is the power of the Dark side," Rodolphus spoke confidently with a smirk. "You can surely see now that it cannot be defeated. Join us at your father's side and you shall live! The Dark Lord is very gracious and forgiving; he would look past your wrongs!"

To give Harry's Slytherin side some credit, he did think about it for a moment. But it only took a glance behind Rodolphus to see the corpses of Fred and George, to determine his answer.

"I'll have to politely refuse, Lestrange," Harry replied, as he pointed his wand towards his stepfather.

Rodolphus sighed. "The Darkness is powerful in you, with the Dark Lord's training, you could easily become his second-in-command."

Unsure of his enemy's reluctance to strike first, Harry shot a Percutio at him. The Inner Circle member blocked it quite easily, but he was still slow to respond.

Last time, Rodolphus had been so brutal and swift in his attacks that Harry had been extraordinarily close to dying. Now, it was a purely one-sided engagement as Harry attempted to break his shield charms, with Rodolphus occasionally fighting back.

'Maybe, he's testing me?' Harry wondered.

"Do you not find me a worthy opponent, Lestrange?" he called out angrily. He'd expected a brutal, vicious fight in which the victory would be glorious. Lestrange was not providing him a challenge and there were several instances where Harry could've easily defeated him, but he didn't as waited for Rodolphus to fight back.

Finally, Harry had enough. The sky was beginning to darken and the amount of people in the courtyard continued to shrink as they fell dead or dragged themselves into the school, wounded.

An Everbo slammed through Lestrange's shield and shattered it and probably his chest as well, when a Percutio came in quick pursuit, striking him in the chest. Harry rushed over to make sure that his adversary was truly down; it was obvious that he was slippery than was once thought if he had escaped both insanity and Azkaban.

But Lestrange was truly defeated, though just in case, Harry kicked his wand out of reach. Something was truly bothering however and he turned to Rodolphus.

"Why did you want me to join Voldemort so bad? Surely you wanted the place as his right hand for yourself."

He gave a weak chuckle and the blood pooling in his mouth gurgled a bit. "It's pathetic and embarrassing for a sadistic death eater like me to admit, but…you are my wife's child and your stupidity has placed you on the wrong side of the war. Please, Herakles, join your family," he ended with a plea.

It was here that Harry realised the terrible truth: there were innocents on both sides of the war. Maybe Rodolphus didn't even believe in blood purity and he'd been forced onto Voldemort's side due to his family. Yes, he was brutal fighter and he'd tortured Neville's parents into insanity, but it was likely that he was just looking for recognition from his master or even his "wife" who was in love with Voldemort and had cheated on him with another man.

They were a lot alike in all honesty.

"I…I wish you would've told me about this earlier, Le-Rodolphus," Harry managed to get out.

"I've had my chance, kid. I failed. But your mother still has a chance. She's fallen so deep in darkness but you can save her, Herakles!"

Harry dragged him behind what was left of one of the pillars and stayed with him until he expired.

* * *

"Burn, you son of a bitch!" Amelia cackled as her Fiendfyre eradicated a handful of magical creatures, but her target dodged out of the way.

Being one of the most experienced and powerful witches in Britain, she could control for a short amount of time and was able to dissipate it without her or it loosing control.

Her enemy desperately tried to get hold off his wand, which he had dropped in his mad dash. He reached it quickly, only to be struck with an Expelliarmus. He attempted to struggle to his feet, but an invisible force slammed into his back.

"Where do you think you're going, Rowle?"

If the situation had been different, it would have been comical the way Thorfinn Rowle's blue eyes widened significantly.

"Stupefy!"

Rowle had never stood a chance. The moment he'd tried to strike her from behind had been the moment that his failure was a certainty. As if to prove her point, Amelia went over to his unconscious body and gave it several kicks. If anything, it'd help make sure he wouldn't be getting back up any time soon.

This battle had been going on for hours and she'd seen neither hide nor hair of Harry. As horrible as it sounds, she hoped he was wounded. At least then, he wouldn't still be stuck in this pit of desolation.

* * *

The two disarming charms bounced off each other, flying off in different directions. She barely managed to sidestep the oncoming cutting curse, but unfortunately, ran right into the Expelliarmus. Her only defense flew from her hand, into her father's hand.

Daphne Greengrass had one of the most uninteresting lives of any teenager. She had been born into the Greengrass family, one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, and had been spoiled due to her family's absurd amount of wealth.

Unfortunately, she had very little contact with the world outside Greengrass Manor. Her life consisted entirely of tutors and her younger sister by two years, until she had went to Hogwarts at the age of 11.

There she had been forced to make friends with the likes of Pansy Parkinson and Millicent Bulstrode to make sure the Greengrass was in a position to make alliances. Personally, she didn't really care if anyone was mudblood or pureblood, or Black or White, all that mattered was power.

She figured out long ago that Voldemort's definition of power and hers were different. Yes he had power, but true power lay with those of the underdogs. Perhaps, her joining the Legion had not been entirely noble, but she'd always longed some adventure in her dull life.

She had never thought that her ideals would come into conflict with her father, especially to the point that he would attempt to kill her.

"Father, wait!" she cried as he jabbed his wand toward her.

"There is nothing I want to say to you, Daphne. You have betrayed this family."

"What will you tell mother?" Daphne asked desperately.

"That you died fighting for the Dark Lord. I do not wish to shame the family more by having your name dragged through the mud," he said stoically.

Daphne shivered. Her father had never been particularly caring but the expression he wore was absolute disgust. Was it her fate that she was going to die here?

"Avada Kedavra!"

Her father fell to the ground in front of her, dead. Slowly, she looked behind her and was utterly shocked at her saviour's identity.

"You okay, Daphne?"

Draco Malfoy limped up his robes in tatters, his leg bleeding, and a black eye. In other words, he looked like death warmed over.

"Malfoy," she said, overwhelmed that he'd helped her in this state.

"Damn werewolves," he said before falling over.

* * *

"They'll just keep on coming if we don't stop them."

"Yes, but, do you even know where they're coming from?" Harry asked the three girls in front of him.

"I was here when it first happened," Katie spoke up. "They came from the lake."

"The lake?" Harry asked quizzically as all four veteran legionnaires ducked by a whizzing spell.

"They came on the boats the first years use. It seems it was the plan the whole time; there were quite a few already when they began the assault," Katie elaborated.

"You think taking out those boats will end this endless stream?" he asked, unsure if it was worse the risk of possibly loosing three of his quickly dwindling number of legionnaires.

Cho and Katie nodded as Marietta was engaged with a mercenary, spotting distracted prey.

"Fine, but take care. Don't do anything reckless."

Harry watched as Katie Bell, Cho Chang, and Marietta Edgecomb ran off towards the lower entrance to the school and wondered if he would ever see them alive again. Shaking his head, he found the mercenary that Edgecomb had been fighting, was surprised at her quick exit and he thought it best to do the world a quick favour by doing away with him.

Cho, her best friend and trusted fighting partner Marietta, and the only surviving Gryffindor chaser Katie Bell, crept along the pillars that supported the enormous structure of the school as a boat dumped off another load of vicious creatures to continue the attack.

Cho and Katie had always been friends, despite a rather intense Quidditch rivalry. However, after the death of Alicia Spinnet above Norwich and Angelina Johnson at Leadburn, Cho and Katie's relationship had deepened. The trio of girls were near inseparable after experiencing war on such a scale and found solace with each other.

"Veck, Cho, they're all over the place," Katie whispered quietly.

Cho rolled her eyes. "Katie, please, you're 17 years old. Saying a curse word won't kill you."

"Is this really the time? They have patrols all over the place! What's the plan, Cho?" Marietta chimed in.

"It's simple really. I'll just use Fiendfyre…assuming I can control it," Cho answered, suddenly looking nervous.

"FIENDFYRE! ARE YOU…" Marietta managed to get out before she was tackled to the ground and two hands placed on her mouth.

Nearby, a guard heard the commotion and after signaling to the commanding officer, cautiously moved towards where the sound was emitted.

"Shut the hell up, Marietta! Do you want us to get caught?" Cho whispered fiercely.

"It's a miracle they didn't hear us," Katie said, finally breathing after a moment of silence from outside.

"Only three girls, eh? Good catch fer me," Gibbon shouted aloud at his great fortune. Three very attractive young girls, and all for him at that.

"Alrigh', off with yer clothes, every one of ye," he ordered with his wand pointing at them.

Cho was absolutely horrified at the very thought and Gibbon didn't have a chance to think another thought until a Reductor slammed into his face.

"Let's go," Cho said, glancing around the pillar.

"But Cho!" Marietta began, "You can't possibly…"

"That means now!" Cho yelled as she dove out of the trap, quickly followed by Katie.

"FIRE!"

A wave of reductos slammed into the pillars, raining stone down upon Marietta. She quickly decided that any place was better than here and followed Cho and Katie.

"Fiendfyre!" Cho yelled, as Katie and Marietta desperately tried to defend against quadruple their number. Small embers came out of her wand, but it was a sad attempt at the spell.

She heard the dreaded words and realised she wasn't quick enough to stop. As she was ready to give in to her fate, she could only watch as Marietta jumped in front of her. "Expell…"

It wasn't fast enough. Marietta Edgecomb flew fast her and landed with a sickening crunch on the ground.

" _Do you think we should go? It could be dangerous."_

" _Of course, we should, Cho! We're fighting for those who cannot fight for themselves! We have to go!" Katie argued._

 _Cho sighed. To be honest, she'd only joined the Legion to get revenge on Cedric, but instead, she'd only gained more to get revenge on for the deaths of her fellow Ravens and schoolmates._

 _But she didn't want to die. And she certainly didn't want her friends to die._

" _What do you think, Marietta? You haven't said much."_

 _Marietta seemed to be in deep thought. "Have you even gotten a feeling that you can't explain, but you know you should follow it?" she finally asked after some time._

 _Cho raised an eyebrow. "I suppose. What are you getting at?"_

" _I think we should go. I just have this feeling that I have to go, not because of any obligation, just because I have to," she answered._

 _Cho laughed. "You don't seriously think that just one person can change the outcome of a battle, do you?"_

" _I don't know...perhaps."_

Six years of friendship gone. Although occasionally their views were different (especially the matter of Harry Potter's innocence), she had always been a true friend, not caring about her popularity.

"FIENDFYRE!" she roared, letting out all her angst in one powerful burst.

This time, a fully corporeal dragon appeared from her wand, utterly melting everyone in sight. She then directed it towards the water, before she began to loose control. It didn't matter though, the dragon's trajectory, sent it crashing, and therefore incinerating, all of the boats and their current passengers.

Cho fell to the ground unconscious and Katie, who whilst Cho had been staring off into space, took a Percutio in the hip, levitated both her and Marietta and stumbled to the castle.

* * *

It wasn't long after he sent the three girls on their task, that reinforcements stopped arriving. It was long after that, that the surviving enemy soldiers surrendered, as they realized they had no way to escape.

Utterly exhausted and ready to collapse, Harry wearily prepared to sleep amongst the dead as the rear seemed much to far away. Unfortunately…

"Harry!"

"Pup!"

Amelia and Sirius had found him.

* * *

 **A/N- Just a hint: Version 2 won't be rated Romance.**

 **Don't forget to read and review!**


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